


a supercut of us

by mjfeelz



Category: Fifth Harmony (Band)
Genre: F/F, a lot of references to ariana's music too, and to music in general, past camren, past laucy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-03
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-01-08 19:22:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 71,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12260553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mjfeelz/pseuds/mjfeelz
Summary: Camila didn't plan to ever see Lucy Vives again, but of course life had other plans.(she didn't plan to fall in love with her either.)





	1. i-ix

**Author's Note:**

> this exists because i have a friend who's crazy about lauren, lucy and camila (not in this order), and she wanted a camcy fic. it was her birthday a few days ago, so i relented. she'll never read it on ao3, but might as well post across platforms.
> 
> wasn't originally tagged as c*mren, but i added the tag because the fic is camila-centric and a lot of her journey in it is camila coming to terms with her history with lauren. laucy tagged coz it's impossible to be camila falling for lucy and sorting through one without the other.
> 
> there is now a [spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/0gkloeja4lyza9rvhk4ouzwbx/playlist/12Kswr3AnzWoRw9Kc7TsVQ?si=w0uEG1ORQIGlPG4da3Al_w) for the story.

**i.**

Camila’s first instinct when she sees her is to duck behind Ariana like a coward.

(ducking behind Ariana is a feat in itself, Camila consoles herself as she clasps the belt of her friend's outfit to keep her in place.)

They’re at a high-end party in a mansion somewhere in the Valley, the type of event Camila doesn’t mind because she can network _and_ hang out with friends she hasn’t seen in a while. It’s a fun way to spend the time during promotion season and before she goes on tour. The music is good, the DJ expertly going from one song to another from all the artists present, and so far everyone is just enjoying themselves without excesses.

“Mila, what are you doing?” Ariana asks, trying to reach behind her to pull Camila forward.

“Lucy is here!” Camila whisper-yells, moving them towards a more crowded area where they can remain safe from unwanted attention.

“Who?” Ariana frowns, turning around to face her. “I don’t know any Lucy.”

Camila rolls her eyes. Sometimes she forgets that Ariana and Selena and Taylor have gotten to a point where they’re larger than life, surrounded only by A-list celebrities and names, and away from the mostly B-to-Z list that used to be her life.

“Lucy Vives.”

A flash of recognition passes in Ariana’s eyes and Camila would be lying if she said she didn’t find it extremely cute how Ariana brings her slim fingers to cover her mouth in an expression of shock.

“Lauren’s ex?!”

Camila nods, blushing. Sometimes she feels embarrassed about the whole thing: the follows and unfollows on social media, the polite bitterness of a relationship gone awry that you can’t get away from. Having to see Lauren with Lucy had been torture, but ever since she’d left Fifth Harmony, Camila catches herself wondering what happened between them, what could have possibly gone wrong?

They seemed so perfect for each other.

“What is she doing here?” Ariana takes a champagne glass from a waiter’s tray and passes it to her. “Is she someone’s date?”

“Well, her father is Carlos Vives, I’m sure she has contacts in the industry.” Camila shrugs, swallowing a huge gulp of the drink. “Also I heard she is recording an album so maybe she’s here as the artist Lucy Vives and not socialite-slash-model Lucy Vives.”

Ariana studies her with a sympathetic look that leaves Camila conflicted. She doesn’t like being pitied. She isn’t sure there’s anything to feel sorry for in loves that burn and fade.

“You know what, Mila? The past is in the past.” She holds Camila in an unexpected hug that almost has her spilling the probably-too-expensive champagne, and Camila smiles into her friend’s neck. “Let’s just have fun, forget about her.”

 

*

 

“Congratulations on your album.”

Camila startles, shifting so she’s facing the person who just spoke, and her heart skips a beat. Or two or three.

“I love it, it’s really good,” Lucy says, in her not-that-husky-but-husky-enough voice, her left eyebrow lifting as it tends to do. It’s always intimidated Camila. “Sweet little Camz going out there on her own, paving a name for herself, shushing the haters with her talent and her success.” She smiles, earnest and playful and a bit defiant too. Lucy Vives has always been A Lot. “I know it doesn’t mean anything to you, but I’m proud of how much you’ve grown and all that you’ve achieved.”

“Thank you,” Camila croaks out, her chest becoming hollow at the sound of the nickname and then full again with an approval she hadn’t realized she needed. She’s aware she should be making small talk but she genuinely can’t figure out what to say.

“Hi, Ariana Grande, pleased to meet you,” Ariana butts in with her hand extended, dissolving the tension Camila is sure she’s radiating.

Lucy sort of squeals at that, as if she’d been unaware of who is keeping Camila company, and soon she’s in an excited back and forth with Ariana like they’d been friends for years.

Camila thinks she should mind but she doesn’t. It gives her heart time to slow down, and her hands the opportunity to stop shaking, and it allows her to start believing that maybe, in another life, she and Lucy could have been close.

 

*

 

Lucy stays with them. And perhaps it’s her presence – perhaps not –, that makes them end up drunk and laughing and dancing like the young women they are. Alive and lucky and grateful.

When Mac calls Ariana, he’s outside to pick her up, and she asks Camila if she wants a ride. Camila is tempted to accept but she makes the mistake of looking at Lucy, who is watching her with mirth and challenge, daring her to play it _unsafe_.

“That’s okay, Ari, I’ll stay. Don’t worry,” Camila says, deciding alcohol will be blamed for everything that happens that night.

Ariana smirks and they hug. Camila is slightly offended when Ariana and Lucy’s goodbyes last several minutes, with the girls exchanging compliments and phone numbers.

Does Lucy make a point of stealing all the girls in her life?

She doesn’t notice when Ariana leaves, too busy staring at the bottom of her champagne glass and the way the bubbles cling to its walls, and all too soon she’s returned to reality when she feels fingers wrap around her wrist and dark eyes bore into hers.

“Let’s go outside.”

 

*

 

“No, Lucy, there is no way I’m smoking that, I actually have self-love and respect my vocal chords!” Camila slurs, falling further into Lucy in the garden lounge armchair they’re sharing. She will _never_ be drunk enough to smoke.

“Oh my god, Cami, you’re such a wuss!” Lucy laughs, taking a long drag. “It’s just a joint, it’s not gonna kill your career.”

“Self-respect! Vocal chords!” Camila parrots, burying her head in Lucy’s shoulder because she’s tired and Lucy smells of fruity shampoo and earthy scents. “Find me a pot brownie and I’ll do it.”

It doesn’t take a genius to understand that putting that kind of thought in Lucy’s mind isn’t, well, the responsible course of action, but Camila is too buzzed to care. She whines at the loss of warmth when Lucy stands up, her pointer finger blurry and too close to Camila’s face. The stern nature of the gesture is lost on her as she smiles up at Lucy goofily.

“Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

Camila wouldn’t dream of going anywhere else.

 

*

 

She is staring but she can’t help it. Camila has always been attracted to passion and Lucy is passionate about many things. Whether it be a rant about the sexualization of women in the music industry or the importance of football players protesting by kneeling during the national anthem, Lucy’s eyes twinkle and her whole body vibrates with life.

It’s not like Camila has another choice but to stare, really. She could listen to Lucy talk for hours.

It must show on her face, because, “You look so cute when you’re high.” Lucy delivers the line like it’s factual, a chuckle at the end.

Camila crosses her arms and pouts, blinking lazily. “I thought I was always cute.”

Lucy isn’t laughing anymore, her expression softening, and this is the most vulnerable Camila has seen her all night. Maybe ever.

“Tú eres _siempre_ guapísima, Cami.”

Camila’s heart… It stops. And it jumps. And it drums wildly. She doesn’t know what her heart is doing. She just knows that Lucy saying those words to her, in her mother tongue, touched her in a place she keeps hidden, and now the atmosphere is charged and Camila is hyper-aware that Lucy is one of the most beautiful girls she’s ever met, with her fascinating mind and her crooked smile and her thick eyebrows.

Lucy is so much and Camila still has trouble feeling like she’s much of anything.

“I’m going to kiss you, okay?” Lucy whispers, her gaze searching for Camila’s with impossible tenderness.

Camila can only nod. It’s been so long since she kissed a girl, she’s forgotten what it’s like.

She’s worked so damn hard to forget.

But then Lucy’s lips are on hers and it all comes crashing down on her like she’d never stopped kissing girls, like she’d never made a conscious decision to stay away from girls. For her reputation, for her career. For her sanity.

Kissing a girl is like coming home. She feels her whole soul sighing in contentment, finally relaxing into something that feels _right_. Her eyes close and her brain combusts and she’s putty in Lucy’s hands.

In Lucy’s lips.

They’re so soft, and so so shy, and Camila no longer remembers her name or who she is, her hands finding their way to Lucy’s hair, holding on so strongly as if she might fall into oblivion and never return if she doesn’t.

When their tongues make contact, Camila whimpers, the touch electrifying her to the tip of her toes, and any chance of putting an end to this moment of madness is forever lost in the way Lucy smiles into the kiss, never letting go of her.

 

*

 

They lose track of time. Of course they do. Camila doesn’t want to open her eyes and return to a reality where she’s not supposed to kiss girls.

Where she’s definitely _not_ supposed to be kissing Lucy.

The music pauses – it must be so late – and Lucy pulls away slowly, leaving one two three pecks on Camila’s swollen lips. They stare at each other for a long beat and Lucy leans in again, breathing “Guapa, guapa, guapa,” reverently into Camila’s mouth.

Camila can’t stop smiling, even after they say goodbye with a long kiss, even after they take separate Ubers to go back to their respective hotels, even after she realizes she forgot to ask Lucy for her phone number as she’s falling asleep.

 

 

**ii.**

Lucy follows her on Twitter and Instagram.

The notification leaves her giddy with excitement, butterflies swirling up her stomach and reverberating in her chest. It’s been almost 24 hours since the party and Camila still feels Lucy’s fingertips ghosting over her ribs, her collarbones, her jaw; still feels Lucy’s tongue tracing over her bottom lip.

Unsurprisingly, the fandom goes up in arms with speculation and Camila winces at how many people are attacking Lucy, calling her names, accusing her of wanting to hurt Lauren, threatening her with awful things if she doesn’t stay away from Camila.

She writes and rewrites the same tweet over a hundred times, but the words to defend Lucy seem to escape her. Nothing she wants to say can be expressed in 140 characters so Camila ends up just writing _“love and chocolate make the world a better place”_ and if the accompanying photo is of a pot brownie instead of a regular one, she’ll deny knowing about it to her death.

Lucy likes the tweet.

Two days later, she follows Lucy back.

 

 

**iii.**

An obnoxious buzzing sound steals Camila away from her deep slumber and it takes her a couple of minutes to realize someone’s calling her cell phone.

“Yeah?” she answers, eyes still shut, face half-hidden in her pillow.

_“I saw Jimmy Fallon tonight and it took me until now to have the courage to call you.”_

Camila sits upright on the bed, all sleepiness gone. “Lucy?!”

_“I’m in New York too. Where are you?”_

“How did you get my number?”

_“Ariana.”_

“You’ve had my number all this time and you’re only calling me _now_?” Camila shuffles, turning the bedside lamp on and staring at the time on her phone in disbelief. “At one in the morning?!”

 _“You’ve known how to get my number all this time,”_ Lucy deadpans. _“I didn’t notice you trying to call either.”_

“Fair.” Camila sighs. “I’m in one of the label’s apartments in Manhattan, but I’m not here alone.”

 _“Send me the location and put some comfortable clothes on,”_ Lucy says, not giving her any room to protest. _“I’m picking you up.”_

 

*

 

Lucy arrives in a car with smoked windows, stepping out so Camila can see her. She’s wearing black ankle boots, a shiny silver mid-thigh dress and she’s wrapped in a coat of what Camila presumes is fake dark fur.

“You look hot,” Camila blurts out, flushing when the words are released. “I thought I was supposed to wear comfortable clothes,” she adds as she enters the car, trying to save face. She feels underdressed in her jeans and her hoodie.

Lucy smirks, giving the driver an address.

“You look great, Cami,” Lucy says, and Camila gasps when she takes off her coat and starts removing her dress. “I always stay at a friend’s apartment when I’m in New York and we were having a house party tonight since I leave tomorrow and all. The TV was on mute but suddenly your face is there, so I tell everyone to shut their pretty little mouths and turn the volume all the way up, right? And, as usual, I’m blown away by your performance.”

Camila is dumbfounded as she watches Lucy getting rid of her boots and putting grey sweatpants on, followed by a baggy Hogwarts sweater and a pair of Skechers. She’s finding it hard to pay attention to what Lucy is saying because there is too much to what Lucy is _doing_.

“So like, I stay there on the couch opening and closing my mouth like a stupid fish, yeah? Feeling fucking stupid with a bottle of vodka in one hand and my phone in the other.”

Camila blinks, trying her very best to get her flustered state under control. “Why were you feeling stupid?”

“I must’ve stayed like that for like, ten minutes? It’s hard to say. Time is different when you’re not sober.” She shrugs and offers Camila a lopsided smile. “Then this guy Pat – you might meet him some day, he does photoshoots for Billboard sometimes – comes over to me and smacks me on the head, all like ‘what the fuck, Luce, get your shit together!’ and I’m like, ‘he’s right! I _should_ get my shit together!’ and at this point I get my ass to the kitchen and have a shot of tequila before I pace around the fucking kitchen island for the next hour thinking about my life.”

It’s not that Camila doesn’t want to be here with Lucy, listening to this story, because she does. It’s more that she has no idea what Lucy is on about and she furrows her brows in concentration. “Are you okay, Lucy? Can I help?” She places her hand on Lucy’s knee and starts rubbing her thumb unconsciously.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Camila doesn’t think she is. She sees the breath hitching in her throat. “I called Ariana. Tonight, I mean. Tonight is when I asked for your number. I scribbled it down on a napkin instead of waiting for a text ‘cause sometimes I like feeling like the protagonist of a John Hughes movie. And to stay in line with the John Hughes theme, I stared at the napkin for another hour. And then I called you.”

Camila laughs softly. “Well, I’m happy you called. You’re lucky that I have the morning off though. If I had to be up at 6 AM, you’d be a dead woman right now.”

“Do you know why I called?”

“Is it the same reason I am risking the wrath of my manager by sneaking out?”

Lucy shakes her head, casting her gaze downwards and with a bashful smile that makes her even more stunning. Camila didn’t think that was possible. “It’s been two months, Camila. In this business, and in college too, it’s just so easy for me to find people to kiss and to fuck.” She looks up, her eyes fixing Camila’s with warmth and _something else_. “But it’s been two months and I can’t get you out of my head.”

 

*

 

The car leaves them by the Hudson and Lucy holds Camila’s hand to pull her in the right direction. Camila intertwines their fingers, her peace offering after being so shocked by Lucy’s words that she’d allowed the rest of the car ride to be silent. Not silent in an awkward way, but silent in a heavy, heart-expanding way.

“I like walking around New York at night because even the city that never sleeps is quieter in the dark,” Lucy says, hiding their joined hands in the pocket of Camila’s hoodie. “I like feeling like I’m the only person awake when the world is sleeping. It’s the only time I get to be alone.”

“Not lonely?”

“I find it easier to feel lonely when surrounded by people,” Lucy replies, her thumb drawing patterns in Camila’s palm. It’s distracting. “Don’t you?”

Camila ponders the question, gaze lost in the water reflecting the city lights. “I do. Sometimes I’m smiling but I feel like my soul is bleeding and it takes all my strength not to cry. It makes me sad, how it’s so easy to hide behind glitter and glamour. How we get so trapped in ourselves we don’t really _see_ each other.”

Lucy beams at that, and Camila gets the feeling she was hoping she’d say something along those lines.

“Come,” she starts, pulling Camila to a bench on the riverside and opening the backpack she’d brought. “I have jugo de tamarindo and brownies. No alcohol, no drugs. Just you, me and the city at our feet.”

Camila arches an eyebrow, her lips curling up in a smirk. “So brownies are our thing now, huh?”

 

*

 

They stay up talking until the sun rises, huddled against each other to fight off the cold. They don’t kiss, they don’t hold hands, they don’t touch each other in any way that could be considered more than platonic. It’s been years since Camila’s felt this safe and cherished, since she’s felt her skin tingling with anticipation and possibility.

They switch between Spanish and English as if the combination of the two is a language of its own. Maybe it is. Maybe it’s the language Camila needs to speak to feel understood.

It’s 7 AM when Roger calls her, half screaming half panicking into the receiver. She’d left a message for her mom but she had hoped she’d avoid Roger finding out about her escapade. Turns out that can’t happen when she has somewhere to be by 10 after all and she’s still on the other side of the city.

Lucy drags her to the car while she’s apologizing profusely, tears already filling up her eyes. Music and family come before anything else and she’s angry at herself for having forgotten the appointment. She doesn’t want to become that kind of artist, she doesn’t want to come across as ungrateful or difficult. Her life is a dream she’d never even dared dreaming and she doesn’t want to ruin it.

“Cami, it’s okay,” Lucy whispers into her ear, sitting close to her in the backseat and entwining their hands for the first time since the beginning of the night. “You won’t be late. Everyone still loves you. You’re good.”

She doesn’t have the energy to argue, her one hour of sleep only now weighing on her, so she just lays her head on Lucy’s shoulder and takes deep breaths, focusing on Lucy’s scent until it replaces her nerves and fear in the fog of her mind.

 

In the end, she arrives fifteen minutes earlier to the radio station and she’s never felt so grateful for radio when the host asks her what’s inspiring her music these days and she blushes like a schoolgirl with a crush.

 

 

**iv.**

They take to talking every day after that night. The first few days is just texts but one day Camila’s too lazy to type and she decides to call Lucy on a whim. Then calling becomes the norm, or rather, they go out of their ways to call each other at least once per day. When it’s impossible due to their crazy schedules and lifestyles, they wake up to minutes and minutes of voice messages.

Camila’s feelings are growing and she doesn’t have the willpower to stop them. She likes the absurd happiness love brings, in whatever shape it decides to present itself as. She prefers crashing and burning to not feeling anything at all.

She doesn’t talk about it with anyone, not even her mom. Sinu knows there’s a friend and nothing else. Roger doesn’t even know _that_ , tricked into believing she’d snuck out to hang with Taylor and her squad.

(Camila is hit with a pang of guilt most times she looks at him.)

This secrecy is unusual to her, who tends to be an open book. It’s not that she’s ashamed of Lucy, more like this whole thing is too precious to her and she doesn’t want to put it under the scrutiny of others’ prying and judgmental eyes.

She deserves joy before any seeds of doubt can be planted.

 

 

**v.**

Three weeks later, one of the first stops of her US tour is New Orleans and there’s no way in hell or earth that Camila will let the opportunity to see Lucy slide. She tells her mom she has plans with a friend after the concert, that even if she comes back late, she’ll be on time for them to leave for their 8 AM flight.

“¿Vas a ver a la Lucía?” Sinu asks after the make-up artist leaves them alone in the dressing room, eyes glued to her phone like she didn’t just ask a question that has Camila’s eyes widened and her whole body frozen on the spot.

Her first instinct is to deny, but it only takes a heartbeat for her to deflate. “Sí.” She sighs, spinning the chair so she’s not looking at her mom through the mirror. “Is that all you have to say?”

“Tú eres adulta y sabes lo que haces, mija.” Sinu lifts up her eyes and smiles. “Cómo tu madre, sólo quiero que tengas cuidado y seas feliz.”

Camila almost starts crying but that would ruin her mascara and her concert starts in ten minutes.

Hugging her mom so tight she complains about her ribs will have to do.

 

*

 

“You were so good tonight, Cami, holy shit!” Lucy exclaims when she opens the door to her studio apartment.

“You were there?!”

Lucy rolls her eyes and pulls her into a hug. “Of course I was there, do you think I’d miss a chance to see you live?” She hides her face in Camila’s hair and squeezes her shoulders between her arms. “God, I’ve missed you.”

“You have?” Camila asks, as if she can’t believe her ears.

Lucy pulls away, one eyebrow perfectly arched in disapproval. “Are you serious right now? I haven’t seen you in a month. Of course I fucking missed you.”

“I, huh–” Camila stutters, looking for the right words to express herself. It’s really hard when Lucy is in shorts and a tank top, not wearing a bra, and Camila has missed her so fucking bad. “I didn’t think… I mean, you’re you and I’m me and like– Fuck.” She takes a deep breath. “I missed you too, Lucy.” She prevents herself from adding the ‘so much’ that was at the tip of her tongue.

Lucy smiles, and Camila will never get tired of the way her cheeks go up up up and turn her eyes into slits. “Come. I have wine and I made popcorn. I’ll let you choose the movie.”

 

*

 

They watch _Tangled_ because nothing else has Camila feeling so hopeful and entertained. They sing along with the musical moments and make jokes as the movie plays. It doesn’t go unnoticed by either of them that they’re practically sitting on top of each other on the couch, and as the wine clouds Camila’s mind, it gets harder to pretend she doesn’t want to kiss or touch Lucy. It’s all she wants to do.

It’s all she’s terrified of doing.

The movie ends and Lucy turns it off and, for a few moments, all they do is sit there in silence. It’s a few moments where the tension rises to the point of unbearable and Camila feels powerless to handle it. She isn’t brave enough. Not for this. The tension is overwhelming her, paralyzing her, wrapping her in binds she couldn’t possibly break, and all she’s able to do is sit there staring at the blank TV and overanalyzing details.

She’s so lost in herself, she doesn’t hear it at first. But then, _“Tell me what you came here for ‘cause I can’t, I can’t wait no more…”_

Camila snaps out of her internal monologue to look at Lucy, who’s now on her knees next to her on the couch.

_"I’m on the edge with no control and I need, I need you to know…”_

Lucy moves to straddle her and it’s all Camila can do not to faint right there and then. They lock eyes and Camila is drowning, struggling to find air in the way Lucy is humming the tune into her mouth.

 _“A little less conversation and a little more touch my body,”_ she sings quietly, lips barely touching the extent of Camila’s jaw before they halt at her ear. _“’Cause I’m so into you, into you, into you…”_

Camila squeezes Lucy’s hips, pushes her just enough, and kisses her like the world is about to end.

It kind of is.

 

*

 

Lucy is sneaking her hand inside her jeans when Camila grabs her by the wrist.

“Wait,” she pants, breaking their kiss.

Things had heated up faster than she expected. Lucy is only wearing her panties, Camila’s shirt is somewhere behind the couch and her jeans are unbuttoned.

Lucy sits back on her knees, studying her face. Camila takes the opportunity to study hers too. Her hair is all disheveled and there’s a pink tint to her cheeks. Her breasts are small and perky and Camila bites her lower lip before covering them with both hands, feeling the nipple on her palms. “Your boobs are a perfect fit for my hands,” she says, in awe of her discovery.

Lucy chuckles, right hand coming up to rest on the nape of Camila’s neck. “You haven’t done this in a long time, have you?”

Camila shakes her head, embarrassed.

“We don’t have to do anything,” Lucy says, kissing her on the lips sweetly.

Camila shakes her head again. “I want to.”

“Today, Cami,” Lucy clarifies with an endeared smile. “We don’t have to do anything today.”

Camila blinks. “Oh.” She settles her hands on Lucy’s lower back and pulls her closer. “Is that okay? Do you mind?”

It’s not that Camila isn’t ready. She loves sex, she’s confident in her body and in her skills, she’s sure they would have a good time, great even. Her problem is that she has troubles separating sex from her emotions and her feelings for Lucy are already so much more than she ever predicted. If they do it, Camila is officially past the point of no return.

She knows she’s insecure but Lucy seems larger than life, a world map waiting to get pinned in every single country, a star so bright it can be seen from every galaxy. How can Camila be enough for _that_?

“Cami, no hay prisa,” Lucy whispers, wrapping her arms around Camila’s neck. “I am happy to just kiss you for as long as you want me to. Okay?”

“Okay.”

 

*

 

That’s what they do. They don’t put their clothes back on, they just linger in the couch in the same position, kissing slowly, turning each other on and bringing each other back from the high. Tracing every single body line they can access, praising them with their touch.

Camila could live in those moments forever.

Lucy doesn’t let her call the driver when the time comes, they just ride back on her motorbike.

Camila’s never felt so badass in her entire life. She’s so happy she puts her hands up and _screams_ , who cares that the helmet takes away from the coolness aspect of it. Lucy laughs, a joyful sound that mingles with her shouts, and Camila holds her tighter when she returns to her initial position.

“Llegámos.”

The streets are still deserted as Camila hops off the bike, gesturing for Lucy to remove her helmet too. They stare at each other for a beat and then Camila leans in, capturing Lucy’s lips in hers.

 _“Something ‘bout you makes me feel like a dangerous woman,”_ she sing-songs into the inch of space between them. She’ll be damned if someone uses her friend’s songs against her.

Lucy looks dazed, her fingertips hovering over her lips, and Camila giggles at the sight.

“Bye, Lucy,” she says, kissing her cheek. “Thank you for tonight.”

Lucy lets her go and Camila is kind of relieved she can’t see how big the smile on her face is.

“¡Hey, Camilita!” she calls, making Camila turn at the hotel entrance to see her ready to drive away. “¡Tienes el mejor culo del mundo!”

Camila just laughs.

Might as well be past the point of no return anyway.

 

 

**vi.**

The latest photo on Lucy’s Instagram has Lucy naked with a girl, bodies positioned in such a way that nudity is perceived but the picture remains safe for work. Camila closes the app, frustrated with the surge of unwanted fears and insecurities that invades her and settles heavy in her chest.

One look at a stupid photo and her head is a cacophony of obnoxious alarms and warning voices, the most prominent being Lucy herself: _“In this business, and in college too, it’s just so easy for me to find people to kiss and to fuck.”_

Of fucking course out of the entire night, _that_ had been her brain’s statement of choice.

It was a matter of time until Camila started questioning her thing with Lucy. She’s acutely aware of her feelings and she _thinks_ Lucy likes her too. What other reason would she have to make an effort to talk to her every day and being so cute while at it? But the thing is, the lack of specifics is starting to wear on Camila. They’ve been talking for almost two months and in that period they’ve only seen each other twice and they haven’t even had sex. Are they exclusive? Camila’s always been prone to monogamy but what if Lucy isn’t?

What if Lucy likes to kiss and fuck pretty models and hot college students?

Camila doesn’t know. They talk every day about the world and their days and music and philosophy and human rights, but they never talk about them and their expectations for what they’re doing.

They never talk about Lauren.

 

 

**vii.**

_“Cami?”_

“Hum?” Camila forces out, sleep winning the battle against her will. “I’m here.”

 _“I don’t want to have to wait another month to see you,”_ Lucy admits in a whiny voice. _“It’s only been ten days and I’m already dying.”_

Now that brings Camila back to the land of fully awake people and she sits up on the bed, moving her hair to the opposite side of the phone to make sure she’s hearing correctly.

 _“I checked your tour dates and some of them fall on weekends so I wouldn’t have to skip classes,”_ Lucy continues, oblivious to the hammering that’s become of Camila’s heart. _“Is it okay… Can I go see you?”_

“Oh my God, _yes_!” Camila blurts out. She’s given up on appearing cool where Lucy is concerned. “Please come. That would make me very happy.”

She swears she hears Lucy doing a victory dance on the other side of the line.

 _“Awesome! I’ll check for flights now and let you know.”_ There’s a squealing quality to Lucy’s tone that Camila finds adorable. _“Good night, Cami.”_

“I’m paying for half of that, just so you know. No arguments!” Camila tells her, lying back down and closing her eyes, a content smile on her lips. “Send me your bank details together with the flight information.”

_“¿Y tengo opción o no?”_

“No.” Camila giggles, already half gone now that the world is a much better place. “Buenas noches, corazón.”

 

*

 

That first time Lucy comes to see her during the tour, a week after they’d agreed on meeting, she’s playing in Austin, Texas. The concert is on Friday night, she has Saturday off and she only needs to travel to Dallas on Sunday morning. A tour miracle if Camila’s ever seen one.

 Lucy arrives on Friday afternoon and Camila doesn’t stop thinking about her until she barges in the Airbnb at almost midnight, kissing Lucy with a hunger she didn’t know she could feel.

This time, she doesn’t hold back. She doesn’t want to. She wants to drown in Lucy, taste every edge and curve of her body, she wants to be so lost in Lucy it’s impossible to tell where she ends and Lucy begins.

“Let me,” she begs, when Lucy pushes her onto the bed and climbs on top of her. “Please.”

Lucy stares at her for a long moment and then moves back so Camila can sit. “What do you want to do, cariño?”

Camila melts. “C’mere.” She pulls Lucy until she’s sat in front of her, one leg on each side of Camila and over her thighs. “I want to touch you.”

Lucy kisses her in reply, once. Twice. “I’m all yours.”

 

*

 

They spend half the night having sex, and then wake up and spend the next day having sex in all the rooms of the Airbnb, pausing only for food and naps – not even to shower because they have sex there too.

Camila almost cries when her driver texts her at 6 AM to let her know he’s waiting downstairs. She almost cries because her time with Lucy is always so limited, because she’d never felt so intensely about anyone or anything for such a long stretch of hours, because Lucy’s lips taste like goodbye.

On the way to the car, she does cry. Her heart is so full it’s overflowing and yet she can’t enjoy it as much as she wishes she could.

They still haven’t talked and Camila hates that she’s too afraid to ask Lucy to be her girlfriend. She’s terrified she’ll lose Lucy if she asks, terrified of losing Lucy if she doesn’t.

Most of all she cries because she already misses Lucy like her soul has been ripped apart and it’s only been two minutes.

 

 

**viii.**

After everything that’s happened, Camila somehow manages to reserve the tiniest piece of her heart to herself, just in case all Lucy wanted was sex.

For a couple of days, she actually believes that was for the best. They’re both so busy, the phone calls last for five minutes at best, and the texts are scarce and short. Camila convinces herself Lucy’s just not that into her, allows her insecurities to run rampant and help her take Lucy off of her mind.

(of her heart.)

Except Lucy refuses to play by her rules and one morning she wakes up to a string of voice messages, videos and snaps of Lucy high as a kite.

_dónde estás quiero besarte_

_te extraño tanto, cariño_

_i_ _would very much like to know what spell you cast coz youre everywhere around me n not being with you feels like the wind has blown all the air away from my lungs instead of helping me breathe easier_

The last message is a screenshot of a purchased flight to Vegas and, just like that, that tiny resistant piece of Camila’s heart is finally Lucy’s.

In all fairness, Camila never stood a chance.

 

 

**ix.**

Lucy is coming in two days and Camila doesn’t want to waste time. She doesn’t want to have to wait for the end of the concert to go meet Lucy, she wants Lucy to be around every single moment of their stay in Vegas.

“Roger, I need to talk to you about something,” Camila says after hanging around his bus gathering courage for one hour.

He fixes his glasses so he’s staring at her above the rim, looking every bit like he already knew something big was coming his way. “Who’s the boyfriend?”

Camila blushes. “I don’t have a boyfriend.” Roger lifts his eyebrows. “I have a friend who’s coming to Vegas to see me and I want her to have access to backstage and to stay with me in my bus.”

“ _Her?_ ”

“Yes.”

Roger takes his glasses off and pulls the dining chair where he’s sat closer to her. “Camila, you know I support you in everything you do, but as your manager I need to tell you how much harder same-sex relationships are in this industry.”

“It’s not a relationship,” Camila rushes out.

“So when you said ‘friend’ you actually meant a regular friend, of the friendship sort?”

She scrunches up her nose, displeased with applying that label to what she has with Lucy.

“No,” she eventually concedes. “We’re getting to know each other.”

“How long has this been going on?”

“Well, the first time we kissed each other was four, five months ago, but we only started talking more, like, two and a half months ago? Something like that.”

“You’ve been getting to know each other for over two months,” Roger repeats, skeptical. “And have you seen each other in this time?”

“Only three times.” Camila smiles, figuring that piece of information should leave him happy. “And now she’s coming to see me in Vegas and I don’t want to have to wait for after the concert to be with her.”

“So you’ve been talking to someone every day for over two months, you’ve only seen each other three times and yet you kept talking, and you’re _just_ getting to know each other?” Roger tries again, sliding a hand down his face. “Camila, do you like this girl?”

She blushes again. “I do.”

“I suggest you figure out what exactly your relationship is so we can work out what this means for your career in practical terms.”

“I don’t want to pressure her,” Camila explains. She omits the ‘I don’t want to scare her away’ that’s much closer to the truth. “We’re being careful, we follow each other on social media but that’s it, we don’t even interact there.”

“Take the time you need, but I don’t want this girl backstage if whatever it is you’re doing isn’t serious or official,” Roger says, placing his hand on her knee in a placating gesture. “There’s a lot of workers backstage all the time, sometimes even fans. All it takes is someone with a camera for a dubious quality video to be leaked online and we have a scandal in our hands.”

“Can she stay in the bus with me?”

“That I’ll allow, but I need to bring a few people up to date so there won’t be any confusion. What’s her name?”

Camila winces, averting her eyes. “Lucy Vives.”

“Lucy Vives?!” Roger practically shouts. “Lauren Jauregui’s ex?!”

She nods, her face bright red.

It’s not something Camila would ever expect to see, but Roger actually facepalms. “This is gonna be a PR nightmare.”

 

*

 

“Lucy?” Camila calls in a timid voice.

They’re having breakfast in her bus, only wearing baggy shirts as that’d been the first thing they’d found after spending the night together, entangled in the sheets.

Lucy hums, mouth full with half of a croissant.

“Are we dating?”

Lucy finishes chewing slowly and swallows, eyes boring into Camila’s with that hint of curiosity and condescension they so often carry. Camila’s heart beats beats _jumps_ in the seconds that tick by.

“Do you want to be?”

She mulls over her reply, since yelling ‘yes’ doesn’t seem to be an option.

“I mean, if you want to, like–” she blabbers, scratching the back of her neck. “I guess I wouldn’t be opposed? But like, it’s cool if you want to stay like this!” she adds, eyes open wide when she realizes what she’s just said. “I’m happy if you’re happy.”

Lucy laughs. An honest-to-God loud, vibrating guffaw that hurts Camila despite herself. It takes a couple of moments for her to calm down and it’s only when she does that she notices Camila’s discomfort. She stops immediately, her expression softening, and extends her hand. “Ven, cariño.”

Camila pouts but moves to sit sideways on Lucy’s lap anyway.

“I’m crazy about you, Cami,” she whispers into the crook of her neck. “You know my mind, I am passionate about so many things. And you know my heart too, I have love flowing through my veins, for people and art and nature. I’m a bleeding heart.” She kisses the spot right below Camila’s ear, making her shiver. “You are important, both to my mind and to my heart. You are important to _me_.” She places a peck on Camila’s jaw and uses her fingers to turn Camila’s chin so they’re staring at each other. “I’m a free spirit but I’m also yours. You allow me to be both.”

Camila hugs her in response, tight tight, too tight, and Lucy’s hands slip inside her shirt and rub her back in gentle, comforting patterns.

“I’m yours too,” Camila finally says, kissing her, kissing her, kissing her. “All yours, only yours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbetaed, so all mistakes are mine.


	2. x-xi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not to be that writer again, but the soundtrack to this chapter is outside (the live version, staind ft fred durst), lover's spit (feist ft. broken social scene) and your ex-lover is dead, by stars.
> 
> my camrenucy friend is still the best <3

**x.**

New York is the third time they see each other during Camila’s US tour, two weeks after Vegas. The tour is closer to its end than its beginning and for that Camila is grateful. She’ll have a three-week break before the European tour and she’s excited to spend quality time with her family and to take a full week to just be with Lucy.

“Cami,” Lucy starts as Camila is lying down half on top of her with her head on her chest. They’re fully naked on the bed and they’re in that post-orgasm bliss that usually devolves into a nap for Camila and into a few extra pages read of whatever book is around for Lucy. “If we’re really doing this, I think we should talk about Lauren.”

Camila freezes. She’s known this conversation was coming ever since their reunion after the party, when Lucy squeezed her way into her heart as more than just someone she’d made out with. She’d even craved it when, in her mind, not talking about Lauren meant they weren’t serious enough, intimate enough, that they didn’t trust each other.

She still believes it’s an important conversation to be had, she just hadn’t expected it to happen when she was about to fall asleep.

(Camila will deny it to her grave, but post-sex naps are her favorite.)

Nevertheless, Lauren and Fifth Harmony have been a forbidden topic and it’s about time they cross that line.

She kisses Lucy’s collarbone and shuffles to the side, resting her head on her hand so she can be focused on Lucy’s face.

“Only if you’re ready.”

Lucy studies her for a full minute, soulful eyes searching hers in a quest for something Camila can’t quite identify. Not yet. Then she smiles a small smile and brushes Camila’s hair behind her ear.

“I’m ready.”

 

*

 

Lucy cries when she talks about Lauren and that’s another thing Camila hadn’t seen coming. She starts off easily enough, bringing Camila up to date on how they’d gone from best friends to girlfriends and the ups and downs of their relationship. She’s okay explaining the break-up too – how they’d drifted apart, how dating a pop star who’s travelling all the time is really fucking hard.

(Camila gulps at that, her heart not strong enough to contain her fear.)

The problem, apparently, wasn’t the relationship or its end. What has Lucy tearing up and trying to reign herself in until she can’t control it anymore was what happened _after_ the break-up.

Someone had talked to Lauren and convinced her that Lucy had spent most of their relationship cheating on her. Lauren had called her in hysterics, screaming accusations at her and not believing a word Lucy said.

Lucy repeats some of the insults, word for word, and Camila’s heart breaks for how much she’s still hurting.

 “I don’t get it, Cami,” Lucy says, hiding her eyes behind the heels of her hands. “Why would she believe someone’s lies over me? We’ve been friends my whole life, _no one_ knows me better than Lauren. Why didn’t she believe _me_? Why did she attack me like I meant nothing?”

Camila doesn’t know the answer to that, but she knows Lauren well enough. Or she used to.

“Lauren lashes out when she’s in pain, baby,” she whispers, leaving gentle kisses on Lucy’s shoulder. “She’s a good person, but she becomes blinded by her emotions and the results can be ugly. I’m really sorry she hurt you.”

“It’s not even true,” Lucy proceeds, clenching and unclenching her fingers, her face still half-hidden behind them. “I _never_ cheated on her, I was always honest about if I felt attracted to other people. I would never intentionally hurt Lauren.” She swallows a sob and finally looks at Camila. “I lost my best friend over lies and it hurts that she’s the reason I lost her. She _chose_ to kick me out of her life.”

There’s nothing Camila could say to make the situation better so she stays quiet, holding Lucy close as she cries all the tears she needs.

“I’m sorry you had to see this.”

Camila shakes her head, slapping Lucy’s stomach lightly to shush her.

“It’s been almost a year, but I’m still angry and I’d never talked about it with anyone. Not like this.” She leans in and gives Camila a long kiss. “Gracias, cariño.”

Camila kisses Lucy’s forehead, thumbs tracing her cheekbones.

Listening was the least she could do.

 

*

 

It’s against character, but after Lucy had let it all out, she’d pretty much passed out from emotional exhaustion whereas Camila had lost any desire to sleep. Being awake while Lucy is asleep is a rarity so she takes the opportunity to cherish the moment.

She still can’t believe this is her life right now. There are days when she wakes up so tired and is convinced it was all a dream until she grabs her phone and inevitably finds Lucy at the top of all her private social media accounts. They’ve been officially dating for two weeks and the mere reminder lights up Camila’s whole face.

Lucy is beautiful when she sleeps, her cheeks still a little puffy from crying, her lips not quite sealed. There’s a tiny vertical line between her brows and Camila moves to soothe the skin with her thumb, forgetting that’s a gesture that could wake her up.

Which inevitably it does.

And Camila’s breath catches in her throat when Lucy’s heavy-lidded eyes meet hers.

“Hi,” she whispers, bringing her guilty hand between her breasts in embarrassment. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You’re looking at me like you can’t believe I’m real.”

Camila blushes and doesn’t reply, just bites her lower lip.

Something changes in Lucy’s gaze and she takes a deep breath in, breathing out, “You’re irresistible,” and shifting so she’s on top of Camila. “I’m going to show you how irresistible you are.”

 

*

 

It’s different this time though Camila can’t pinpoint what exactly is different about it. Something about Lucy’s intensity and how she worships every inch of her body with her lips and her fingertips. Or maybe something about how, whatever it is she’s doing, she doesn’t stop watching Camila and so Camila can’t look away from her, can’t just shut her eyes and enjoy the sensations because right now the main sensation is Lucy’s eyes on her.

She’s not usually so indulgent with Lucy’s tendency to dominate, she teases her and fights her, spins them around and takes her rightful turn, but today Lucy needs this and Camila is more than willing to play along.

Camila is coming to terms with the fact that she’s willing to do a lot of things for Lucy.

When Lucy’s fingers find their way _there_ , it’s not the most pleasurable position. She curls them inside but they can’t reach the g-spot because Lucy’s palm is pressing Camila’s clit. She is close and yet everything is both a lot and not quite enough so Camila allows herself to get lost in the way Lucy is holding all her weight in just one arm. She can see the muscles flexing with exertion, a droplet of sweat hiding behind the curve of her elbow. Somehow, that’s the hottest vision she’s ever seen.

Rocking her hips against Lucy’s is helping, and so is grabbing her ass and pulling her closer so the pressure is just right.

It helps even more that, in one swift motion, Lucy pushes her fingers deeper inside, her thumb remaining strong on her clit, and says, eyes burning with emotion, “Come for me, Cami.”

In the end, it’s not Lucy’s fingers or how her body is adjusted to Camila’s like they’re two puzzle pieces that pushes her over the edge. It’s the plea in her voice, the vulnerable, raw want in her features.

Camila does come, eyes rolling back, back arching off of the mattress, all senses wrapped in Lucy. Lucy and her scent of fruits and something mystical. Lucy and her soft skin that is warm and tingly on hers. Lucy and her quiet hums of pleasure as Camila trembles beneath her.

_Lucy._

Lucy who she can feel studying her the entire time, fingers slowly slipping out and making Camila shiver as they leave feather-light caresses in the sensitive area and along her torso until Lucy drops softly on top of her, supporting herself on her elbows.

“Look at me, cariño.”

It takes monumental effort, but Camila does as she’s told. And then her heart stops and jumps and _sings_ in her chest, suddenly so immense it needs to be free from its cage.

Lucy is smiling, eyes bright with unshed tears, and never has Camila felt so loved with just one look.

(in her mind, she believes it too early to even contemplate love, but her heart _knows_.

it knows.)

“Cuando me miras así,” Lucy whispers, lips a breath away from hers, “cuando me miras con eses ojos en que caben el sol y la luna y todas las estrellas y planetas entre ellos…” Camila halts her with a kiss because she doesn’t know what else to do. She doesn’t know how to not be overwhelmed by Lucy. “…me siento inolvidable e invencible e infinita.”

Camila feels rather than hears Lucy’s words. She feels them ringing in her ears and tightening her throat, she feels them travelling through her body until they explode between her lungs.

It’s all so much she could cry but she cradles Lucy’s jaw and kisses her instead.

 

*

 

Lucy asks about her Lauren story later, when her day off is almost turning into another day in which she has to be up early for rehearsals and soundcheck. Another day in which she has to see Lucy leave. They’re cuddling on the couch in the back of the bus, Netflix forgotten on a _Jane the Virgin_ episode.

It takes Camila a few minutes to answer. She’s not sure what Lauren has told Lucy already and she’s even less sure if that’s something she wants to know. There’s also a layer of bittersweetness that comes with talking about Lauren and so Camila avoids it.

She’s been avoiding it for three years.

“Lauren and I, we…” She trails off, swallowing hard and finding Lucy’s hand so she has something to hold on to. “We were never like you two. We were never an actual couple.”

To Camila, they had been. Lauren had been her first love, her first kiss, her first time. Lauren is a collection of Camila’s firsts and her heart never beats quite the same when she thinks of her.

Lauren is also the first time Camila felt ashamed for being who she is, for loving who she loves. Lauren is fear and doubt festering in her soul while hope clings to her skin like spilled honey. Lauren is a little scar in Camila’s heart and most days it’s just there as a reminder of her past and what she’s overcome. In other days, like today, it stings like a million tiny needles are poking it.

“We just fooled around in secret whenever…” She gulps and sets her eyes on the MacBook, Petra yelling at Rafael distracting her for a moment. “Whenever Lauren felt like it. I tried taking initiative more at the beginning, you know? But she kept rejecting me and so I got scared of pushing her away.” She smiles, turning Lucy’s hand around so she can fiddle with her fingers. “I loved her very much and I was happy to take whatever she could give me. For three years I waited. She would have boyfriends and still come knocking in the middle of the night, never to stay until the morning. For three years, Lauren would come to me almost every day, kiss me and fuck me until I forgot my name, and ask me not to complicate things.”

Lucy stays silent and extends her free hand so Camila can play with it too. It’s the most miniscule thing, but it’s unexpectedly comforting.

“Then everything stopped. Out of the blue, it just… stopped. And I couldn’t ask what happened because that would be complicating things, because for three years the terms were never mine.” She looks up to see Lucy already staring at her. It’s a little forced, but Camila manages to offer a teary smile. “A couple of weeks later, Lauren introduced you as her girlfriend.”

The expression on Lucy’s face is unreadable and Camila doesn’t dare venture through the storm in her eyes. Not right now.

“I thought Lauren was coming to terms with her sexuality, that she was afraid and didn’t know what she wanted.” She lowers her eyes and pulls her hands back, finally remembering why she’d avoided talking about Lauren for so long: it always feels like collapsing – she can’t do it without everything hurting. “Turns out she just didn’t like _me_. Not like that, not enough. I wasn’t enough for her, but you were.”

“Camila, I–”

“It’s not your fault, Lucy,” Camila admits, wondering if this is what drowning feels like. “I was angry at you for so long, the typical scorned woman act. ‘What does she have that I don’t?’” She lets out a bitter chuckle. “I still don’t know what I don’t have, but she did tell me that you made her love and accept herself, and for that I am grateful. It hurts, I think maybe it will always hurt, but I love Lauren too much not to wish her happiness.”

Lucy furrows her brows and reaches for Camila’s hand again. Camila lets her entwine their fingers.

“For what is worth, the last time I kissed Lauren was in the fall of 2015 and I sent her away then, I was so fucking tired of her games. I didn’t know it was going to be our last kiss or I wouldn’t have.” It is impressive to her, how she feels waves crashing and volcanoes erupting inside her chest, but the tears refuse to fall. “It’s stupid and I hate myself for it, but that is my biggest regret. I thought she’d come back around, but she never did to you what she did to the boyfriends.”

“I don’t know what to say.” Lucy rubs Camila’s knuckles gently, frowning like there’s something she actually could say. “Though I guess now I understand why her instinct was to believe I cheated.”

Camila rolls her eyes, amused despite herself. “There’s not much to say,” she agrees with a shrug. “You loved her and she loved you, you were perfect for each other.”

Lucy sighs and moves even closer to Camila, resting her head on her shoulder.

“I think we were perfect for each other, yes.” Camila’s heart stops. “For a little while.” It starts again, quick and terrified. “But things change and so does perfection.”

“I don’t resent you, Lucy. I need you to know that.”

Lucy smirks. “I’ve noticed.”

“Are we okay?”

“I’m really sorry about Lauren and I’m sorry you had to go through so much pain for so long,” Lucy says, kissing her neck. “I had no idea it had been so serious for you and I understand if you’re still mad at me.”

“I’m not,” Camila insists, shaking her head. “And I’m not mad at Lauren either. We were kids and she was figuring herself out. It just hurt for a while. 2016 was _horrible_!” She laughs, not bitter this time. “I’m not gonna say it wasn’t hard because I’d be lying. For three years I had Lauren, in whatever capacity she was able to give herself to me, and then all of a sudden I had nothing. And for how loud and opinionated and abrasive Lauren can be, talking to me always seemed like the most daunting task one could ask from her.”

“She never let you have proper closure, did she?” Lucy asks, pursing her lips. “It’s harder to move on when you can’t understand why and how something happened.”

Camila nods, kissing the crown of Lucy’s head.

“It’s easier now. Everything became easier when I left Fifth Harmony.” She pinches Lucy’s chin between her thumb and her pointer and turns her face towards hers, giving her a peck. “And I’ve got you now too.”

“Thank you,” Lucy whispers, eyes closed. “For listening to me. And trusting me with your Lauren story.”

“Thank _you_ ,” Camila says, kissing the tip of her nose, “for making me feel safe enough that I could hear and talk about Lauren without wanting to disappear inside myself forever.”

“We can kiss each other’s battle scars,” Lucy jokes, wrapping her arms around Camila’s waist and burrowing her head in the crook of her neck.

The corner of Camila’s mouth curls up in a naughty smile, right hand sliding down to Lucy’s center. “It’s a good thing we’re already half-naked then.”

 

 

**xi.**

They’re all in Miami at the same time. Camila, Lucy and Lauren, that is.

It’s Camila’s last show of the US tour, Lucy is finally on holidays after her finals and Lauren… They don’t know why Lauren is in Miami, they just know that she is. It’s not difficult to figure that out from her social media.

They’d discussed it and reached the conclusion that it would be better if Lauren heard the news from them instead of finding out some other way. It’s not that they owe Lauren anything, not anymore, not really. They just feel like she deserves to know and they deserve a clean slate when it comes to her.

It’s way too soon to assume anything in public, but since the internet is an unpredictable world and they can’t control who will snap a picture secretly or start spreading rumors, it’s wiser to just get on with it before it’s out of their hands.

Lucy gets tasked with the job of actually doing it. She still has close friends in common with Lauren, unlike Camila, who can’t exactly go “hey, Dinah, set up a date for me and Lauren, please” without hearing from Lauren ten minutes later, using an unknown number to tell her to stay away and that there’s nothing they need to talk about.

Camila’s exit from Fifth Harmony is still a sore subject for her. In fairness, everything Camila is a sore subject with Lauren.

At least Lucy can have Keana and Vero tricking Lauren into meeting with her if nothing else works. Lucky for her, Lauren agrees to meet after much insistence from both Lucy and Keana.

Unlucky for Camila, they’re meeting at a time that will for sure end up overlapping with her concert.

It’s like Lauren is still finding ways to stab a knife in her chest and twist it, never letting her breathe long enough to find relief.

 

*

 

It’s not the best performance of her life. She knew she’d be off-balance, but she didn’t expect to be _that_ off-balance. It makes her feel even worse because her fans deserve everything but as much as she’s trying, it doesn’t seem like she’ll be able to manage her anxiety well enough to be on top of her game.

Every time she goes backstage for a change of outfit and sees no sign of Lucy on her phone, it gets worse. She’s gotten a couple of lyrics wrong and she’s certain she’s at least a beat late to most dance steps. It’s frustrating and annoying and she hates herself a little.

Three years later and Lauren still has a world-shattering impact in her life.

Months later and a gaudy, obnoxious, nitpicky part of her still deeply believes that Lucy is making a mistake, that she’ll wake up one morning and set herself free from Camila’s small, insecure chains.

When she’s backstage before encore and her phone remains painfully blank, Camila takes her shoes off and asks a staff to tell the light tech that she wants the spotlight on herself and the rest of the stage pitch black. She’s been closing her gigs with an acoustic version of _Havana_ , but this time her fans will get an added bonus.

Roger and her mom are looking at her funny, and she shrugs in response. Sometimes you can’t explain why you need to do something. You just know that you need to do it.

“Hi, guys,” she greets when she’s sat on the tall stool with the guitar on her lap. A few moments pass by of people just cheering and she waits for them to stop. “Something happened recently that made me think of my past and put it in perspective. Then the day after, I go meet Roger ‘cause he needs to talk to me and when I get there, of course he’s listening to his old people music.” The crowd laughs and Camila smiles at that, charmed by the sweet predictability of audience reactions. “At some point, this song starts, a live version of the song and…” She mulls over her words, trying to find the ones that fit. “You know when you listen to a song for the very first time and even then, right away, the song captures you and just makes sense? To your heart.” She places her hand over her chest and taps it twice. It echoes through the venue and gives her goosebumps. “This was one of those songs so I wanted to learn it. I’ve been practicing for almost three weeks now, in my free time. It’s not perfect yet, and I wasn’t even supposed to be playing it today, but well, Miami is my hometown. Where else, if not here?” She adjusts the strap of the guitar and shuffles until she’s in the most comfortable position. “The song is called _Outside_.”

As soon as she plays the first chords, she realizes she’s in way over her head. There is a reason the song had stood out to her after Lucy brought all her poorly resolved Lauren feelings to the surface.

It’s a struggle not to break down in tears and she’s very aware that her voice sounds strained. It’s not bad, not exactly, it’s just a lot more emotion than she was expecting to share. The crowd seems to sense it too, it’s the most deafening silence she’s ever experienced during a concert.

She swears the only sounds that exist are her voice and her heart plunging out of her chest.

And then the climax of the song comes and Camila lets herself go.

_“All the times that I’ve cried/All this wasted, it’s all inside/And I feel all this pain/I stuffed it down, it’s back again/And I lie here in bed, all alone/I can’t mend but I feel/Tomorrow will be okay.”_

She’s crying when she goes on to the last chorus. She’s not sobbing, but tears are running down freely and it’s not lost on her how one falls on the guitar strap.

It’s kind of poetic.

The song ends and, if the silence during the performance had been deafening, the roars and shouts and applauses are now all-encompassing and the love in the room hits her with the force of a comet crossing the night sky. It brings with it a new set of tears, this time of joy.

It feels a lot like healing.

 

*

 

Today, of all days, being in Miami is more of a burden than a blessing. Camila wants nothing more than to sleep next to Lucy, immerse herself in her presence and warmth, but Miami being the end of her US tour means she gets to stay at her family’s house and that’s not the most conducive environment to sleep with your girlfriend, especially when out of everyone only Sinu knows about Lucy.

At least she’d been hanging out with her sister all day since she arrived that morning. Sofi is a balm to all that’s wrong with her and the world, but Sofi is asleep now. It’s almost 2 AM and she still hasn’t seen Lucy or heard from her since she went to meet Lauren.

After the concert, she’d sent a text:

_not to be dramatic, but this concert was insane. are u ok? how is it going?_

That had been around 11 PM and still no reply. She tried to watch a movie but gave that up when she couldn’t focus for more than five minutes. Tumblr became her weapon of distraction after that, her private account so she doesn’t have to put up with people overanalyzing and overthinking her likes and reblogs. When Tumblr got boring, she started writing a song.

There’s nothing simple or black and white about her feelings and her history with Lauren. There’s nothing pretty or rational about how, in a triangle formed by her, Lucy and Lauren, she can’t help but believe that she is the remarkably inferior vertex.

She had seen Lauren and Lucy together, she’d hid her head under her pillow to not hear them debating over politics through the night in Fifth Harmony’s bus, she had witnessed Lauren going from spiteful of questions about her sexuality to a proud butterfly flying over the rainbow.

She had lived through it all only to come out of the experience as someone Lauren despises, someone Lauren can’t conceive of sharing a space with. She had survived with no intentions of ever even seeing a photograph of Lucy online again, much less seeing her in real life, only to find herself falling for her more with each passing day.

And now Lauren and Lucy have been together for over six hours, there’s a void where her heart should be and she can’t remember the last time she’d cried as much as she’s doing today.

Her phone beeps. It’s 2:14 AM.

_you still up, babe? can i come over?_

Camila sighs, a long one straight from her soul, and replies:

_please_

 

*

 

She practically jumps on Lucy the moment the girl tells her she’s outside her door. It’s a full body hug, both her arms and legs tight around Lucy, and her girlfriend – her girlfriend! – laughs in her ear, surprised at the reception.

Camila could swear she’d never heard a more beautiful sound in her life.

“I’ve missed you so much, Lu, you don’t understand.”

Lucy holds her tighter and breathes her in. Camila can feel her closing her eyes and so she moves her head to kiss her. It’s a little awkward but also extremely cute because Lucy is keeping her in place and Camila is covering her face with noisy kisses while Lucy giggles like they’re children.

“Camiiii,” Lucy whines, scrunching up her nose, “you’re gonna wake up your family if you keep doing this.”

Camila laughs and gives her one last peck on the lips before lowering her legs back to the floor. “Come,” she says, dragging Lucy to the living room. “I want to know everything.”

She sits on Lucy’s lap, purely because she wants to and she can, and she doesn’t care that Lucy makes fun of her and pokes her on the ribs. It’s been almost three weeks since they’d last seen each other and, if today has proved anything to Camila, it’s that she’s just not emotionally equipped to handle the mere thought of Lauren and Lucy spending time together. She wasn’t then and she isn’t now, albeit for different reasons.

Lucy tells her that Lauren was not happy to meet her. She’d spent a good ten minutes ranting about how she wasn’t ready for that and that she couldn’t see any good reason why they shouldn’t have waited to talk. It had taken Lucy quite a long while and lot of patience to get Lauren to listen.

And, after they’d gotten over the initial tension and resentment, when Lauren finally had stopped to pay attention to Lucy, she cried.

“At first, she thought we were together to get back at her and she was really angry,” Lucy explains, a confused expression in her features. Camila is kinda smitten with how she can’t fathom a world where that is a possibility. “She said some really mean shit and if I didn’t know Lauren like I do, I’d have started a fight for sure. But then she looked at me, like, took a good look at me, and she got it. She saw that I was serious and she started crying.”

Camila doesn’t know what to do with that information. It’s very out of the realm of her expectations and so she latches on to it, lets her heart nurture the notion that a part of Lauren still cares about her. It makes everything easier to take, somehow.

The fact that Lucy spent seven hours with an ex-girlfriend who also used to be her best friend and not once had she thought of dropping Camila a text. How Lucy comforted Lauren for over an hour and then they’d gone down nostalgia lane. How Lauren let Lucy explain herself and apologized for jumping to conclusions. How they caught up on a year of missing each other. How they decided that their friendship deserves another chance. How Lucy’s eyes are shining with excitement and she can’t stop smiling.

Camila is happy for Lucy, she can see how a weight has been lifted off her shoulders now that she’s clarified everything with one of the most important people in her life. Camila is so happy she swallows her own doubts and insecurities and opts for focusing on the hope that maybe this time she’ll be enough for someone.

She’ll be enough for Lucy.

If she’s just happy and supportive, maybe she’ll get to have this.

 

*

 

The first thing Camila does when she wakes up the next morning, alone in her bed after bidding Lucy goodbye around 5 AM, is check Lauren’s social media. There must be something, Lauren wouldn’t let such a life plot twist slide without some sort of public recognition.

She isn’t wrong. Right there, at the top of Lauren’s Instagram, there’s a new video posted a few hours before.

Camila’s heart is blood and tears in her chest as she presses play.

_Send my love to your new lover / Treat her better / We’ve gotta let go of all of our ghosts / We both know we ain’t kids no more_

Lauren looks beautiful with her bright green eyes and her lips painted red, the song coming out of her mouth in the hypnotic power of her raspy voice. She seems a mix of sad and resigned, her smile at the end a little hurt around the edges.

Camila watches the video again and again, obsessed with the dark purple of Lauren’s nails and the cloud-white of her top. It’s the longest she’s allowed herself to look at Lauren since she’d left Fifth Harmony and it’s easier than she thought it would be. There aren’t tears pricking at her eyes, her lungs aren’t too small for the air she needs to breathe.

She watches Lauren sing and smiles, wondering if the video is aimed at Lucy or herself. Perhaps it’s the best way she could find to send a message to them both.

Camila thinks it might be the closest thing to a blessing they could ever get from Lauren.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbetaed so all mistakes are mine.
> 
> also this was supposed to be a quick oneshot and it is now a monster that i wouldn't be surprised if it got to 30k lol


	3. xii-xv

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbetaed, so all mistakes are mine

**xii.**

Camila spends most of her time in Miami sleeping and hanging out with her family. Lucy had left for Puerto Rico the day after making amends with Lauren, but she isn’t very bothered by how little time they had together in her hometown because she’ll go stay with Lucy after her week vacation in Cozumel.

Every now and then, she’s hit by guilt that she isn’t in a studio working towards her next album but what is a three-week break in an almost five-month tour anyway? She’s been writing a lot and after the tour ends she’ll be able to focus on making music, there’s no need to obsess over work now when resting is of more use to her.

Cozumel is a lot of fun. They stay at a resort and busy themselves with different touristy plans. So far, Camila’s favorite has been the morning they spent at some sort of stingray farm, learning about stingrays, feeding them and swimming with them. Sofia was the happiest and there are few things that make Camila feel more accomplished than that.

She tries her hardest to be present at all times – fame already steals her away from her family so often –, but there are still moments when she catches herself smiling at her phone or when she excuses herself to call Lucy.

It’s not her intention to draw attention to her behavior or to keep secrets from her father and her sister. She doesn’t know why she hasn’t told them yet.

(or she does. it doesn’t matter how deep she is in her feelings, the sad truth is she’s still expecting Lucy to leave her sooner rather than later.

there’s no point in disappointing more than one person in the family.)

Nevertheless, it _is_ kind of obvious and on their last night in Mexico, her father approaches her when she’s enjoying the hammock in the porch of their exclusive bungalow.

“Hace mucho tiempo que te veo feliz, pero estás con un brillo diferente ahora,” he says, aiming for nonchalant but failing miserably.

Camila smiles. It’s impossible not to.

“I’m very happy, yes.”

“¿Y quién te hace sonreír así?” Alejandro asks, taking a seat on the bench against the wall. “Hay algún chico por ahí?”

“There’s no boy, papi.”

He hums and then opens his eyes wide. “¿La Lauren finalmente ganó juicio?”

Camila snickers and purses her lips. “This isn’t about Lauren. She’s still not talking to me more than what’s strictly necessary.”

“Rezo todos los días por esa niña,” her father says under his breath. Camila hears him anyway. “¿Pero es una chica que te está haciendo feliz?”

“Yes.”

“And you are dating this chica?”

“Sí, papi.”

“¿Y cuándo vamos a conocerla?”

“It’s too early for that.”

“Ni parece cosa tuya.” Alejandro frowns and Camila shrugs. “Cuando estás enamorada no te callas nunca.”

“Everything is very new. We started dating, like, a little over a month ago and I don’t want to bring her into our family before I’m sure.”

“Sure of what?”

“I don’t want Sofi to get attached to another person who will just disappear.”

That much is also true. Her father doesn’t have to know about her crippling fears and doubts.

“¿Sabes lo que me parece?” he asks after a minute of silence. “Me parece que esa chica es importante para ti y que estás con miedo que ella te haga lo mismo que te hizo Lauren.”

“I am scared, yes,” she admits, smiling weakly at her dad, “but that’s for me to figure out on my own time. When I’m ready, I’ll bring her home to meet everyone.”

Alejandro nods and gets up, kissing her on the forehead.

“Sólo quiero lo mejor para ti, mija.”

Camila believes that, from her father and her mother and her sister, and she can’t wait to love so surely that her family gets to witness it too.

 

 

**xiii.**

The first time there’s rumors about them, it’s because of the night Camila arrives in San Juan. They’d agreed on a late flight to avoid curious eyes at the airport since Camila isn’t travelling with security. It’s the last flight arriving that day, it’s not even a fully booked flight, and there aren’t that many people in the airport hall either.

It would probably be safer if Lucy waited outside in the car but Lucy isn’t one to care for such things and Camila should probably worry more if her manager’s opinion is to be taken into consideration. She just can’t find it in her to be concerned if there’s no way she’d ever do anything in public with Lucy. Whatever anyone ever sees or gossips about until she wants people to know the truth are displays of friendship at best.

As it is, Lucy is wearing sunglasses despite it being dark outside and Camila has the hood of her jacket on. They don’t kiss – they’re not stupid – but they do hug. And Lucy holds her a little bit too long for she makes a point of whispering in her ear, “We’re staying at my nana’s house so you’re gonna have to be quiet when I fuck you against the wall.”

Camila blushes and lets herself be dragged out of the airport.

Online, a picture of their hug starts spreading, but it’s so blurry Camila can’t take it seriously. Sure, there are two people hugging, but indistinct light brown hair buried in a grey hood isn’t the best source material for face recognition software, no matter how good her fans’ detective skills are. She texts her mom while Lucy is driving, telling her to tweet one of their recent family pictures at home the next day to control whatever little damage may be happening, and forgets about the whole thing.

What she definitely will never forget, however, is how they get to the house of Lucy’s grandmother and Lourdes is still up waiting for them. She takes a good look at Camila and then a flash of recognition crosses her features.

“Ay Dios mío, Lucía, ¿pero solo te gustan las cantantes?”

Lucy flushes a deep red and Camila laughs, fighting the urge to move closer to her and hold her hand.

“Al menos son bonitas, podría ser peor.”

Lourdes pulls Camila into a hug as if they hadn’t just met and Camila figures this isn’t all that bad as far as family introductions go.

 

*

 

It’s been about nine months since Hurricane Maria and, although Puerto Rico is doing much better, there’s still a lot that needs improvement. Mayagüez’s electricity is fickle at best and the phone and internet services can’t be trusted with consistency, but at least they have everything. Small towns and pueblos are doing a lot worse.

Camila takes a weird kind of satisfaction from the fact that, instead of walking around and sightseeing, what they’ll be doing for most of their time together in the island is helping out whoever is in need. After spending a few months doing humanitarian work in the wake of the Hurricane, Lucy knows precisely who to contact to get things done – and she always knows where she needs to be if things getting done means using her own hands.

It’s a little overwhelming. Camila’s life ever since she was 15 has been clouded in luxury and privilege, so returning to a reality of poverty and hardship is both eye-opening and terrifying. Her hands are shaking when she follows Lucy out of the house the next morning and Camila fears she’ll feel inadequate, fears she’s too weak, too scared, too vulnerable to be of any productive use.

Truth is, there’s nothing inadequate about singing your lungs out with your girlfriend as you ride around in a truck, dropping meals off in temporary community centers.

Camila believes she could get used to this.

 

 

**xiv.**

“Lucy, I’ve been thinking.”

The other girl lifts her head from the essay she’s been working on – something about white women’s common failure in embracing intersectional feminism – to stare at Camila, who’s sitting cross-legged against the headboard of the bed with a notebook open on a half-scribbled page.

“You know I’m going on the European Tour next week and then it’s another five or six weeks of us not being able to see each other.” Lucy arches one eyebrow at her and Camila gets a bit flustered. She isn’t exactly proud of what she’s about to say. “So like, I’m fine waiting but I understand if, like, you have needs and want to make out with someone or something.”

Lucy looks at her in bewilderment and Camila almost laughs because her face right now is the physical embodiment of a well-placed ‘what the fuck’. She’s too nervous to indulge though.

“And are you comfortable with that?” Lucy asks, several seconds of silence later.

Camila winces and doesn’t reply. She’s not thinking of her comfort, she just wants Lucy to be happy and free.

“Cami, would that be okay with you?” Lucy asks again, more forcefully this time. She pushes her papers and laptop to the side and sits in front of her. It’s rare for Camila to see her this serious and it petrifies her a little.

She shakes her head in reply, eyes cast downwards.

“Good, because I don’t want you making out with anyone else either.”

Camila whips her head back up and there’s no disguising the shock in her features. It’s unfortunate since at seeing her, Lucy’s expression turns to one of hurt.

“Look, Cami, I don’t know what you’ve heard about me – or maybe I’m somehow giving the wrong impression?” She sighs, extending her hand to plant it on Camila’s knee. It’s a habit she has that Camila has grown fond of: whenever they’re communicating, Lucy finds a way to make physical contact. “When I’m in a relationship, I prefer it to be monogamous.” Camila bites her lower lip, embarrassed. “I understand human nature and I’m not gonna sit here and pretend you and I won’t feel physically attracted to other people, but that is irrelevant. If I’m with you, I’m with you and no one else.” She releases another sigh and shifts so she’s next to Camila against the headboard. “If you want to have a relationship in different terms, you should tell me now so we can discuss it.”

“No,” Camila rushes out, interlacing their hands. “I want you and only you. I just didn’t want you to think I’m limiting you or trapping you in case you… needed that. I was trying to give you space.”

“I have all the space I need, cariño,” Lucy says, kissing her temple. “And you shouldn’t be afraid of saying what you need and want out of a relationship.” Camila scoots closer and wraps her free arm around Lucy’s waist. “Maybe we need and want different things, but we can reach a compromise if we talk to each other about them.”

“I promise,” Camila whispers into Lucy’s shoulder. “It’s so hard and I don’t know what I’m doing half the time, but I… I like you and I want to make this work. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. It’s important to set rules and boundaries and, to be fair, we hadn’t talked about any of that, so I’m glad you brought it up.” Lucy squeezes her fingers and kisses the crown of her head and Camila’s heart swells with tenderness. That’s another detail about Lucy that’s been a surprise to her: how she is always so gentle and soothing, how she uses touching to keep Camila tethered to the moment. To her. “Are we okay? Is there anything you want to clarify?”

“Estoy bien, corazón,” Camila says, placing a pecking on her cheek. “Thank you for being so patient. I promise if I’m worried about anything or if something makes me upset, I’ll tell you.”

“Good.” Lucy brushes Camila’s hair away from her face and stares at her intently. It always makes Camila’s heart flutter in her chest, especially when she’s smiling with her eyes like right now. “I want us to work too.”

 

*

 

There’s two nights and one day left until Camila flies to Miami and then off to start the European leg of her tour. They finished having dinner with Lucy’s family an hour or so ago and are now in the bedroom they’ve been sharing at Lourdes’ house. Lucy is working on her essay again, like she’s been doing all week for at least two hours every day, and Camila isn’t quite bothered by it so much as she is bothered by how evasive Lucy is when she asks about it.

Camila can’t claim she’s an expert in college life, but if the school year is over, why does Lucy have to be writing such long and important essays? It doesn’t sit well with her.

“Lucy,” she whines, dragging out the Y. “Come to bed, I miss you.” She pouts, but Lucy doesn’t turn around to see it.

“I need to finish this tonight, baby. The deadline is tomorrow at 10 and then I’m all yours for your last day.”

Camila harrumphs and crosses her arms, two actions that also go ignored. She stays in her spoiled brat position for a minute and then leaves the bed to stand behind Lucy’s chair, sliding her hands all the way down until they’re both inside Lucy’s underwear.

“If the mountain won’t come to Muhammad,” she declares, breath hot in Lucy’s ear, “then Muhammad must go the mountain.”

“Cami, what–”

“Shhh, baby.” She starts rubbing Lucy’s clit with one hand, the middle finger of the other going up and down her slit in slow, deliberate motions. “Just enjoy. I’ll try to make it quick.”

She knows Lucy’s body a little by now and she absolutely _loves_ how easy it is to turn her on. With a few dirty whispers and a couple of well-placed neck bites, Lucy is about ready to explode in her seat.

Camila pushes two fingers inside and sets a quick pace, feeling delighted with the wet sound the movement is causing. There’s a powerful kind of satisfaction that comes with having Lucy Vives at her mercy.

Flicking Lucy’s clit hard and fast with her fingertip, she curls the fingers of her other hand inside and upwards and presses them until she feels Lucy’s walls clenching. From this angle, she can see the orgasm travelling through her legs and making her toes curl.

It’s an amazing sight, one that leaves her in desperate need of her own orgasm. She’s impatient but she can wait for Lucy to recover.

“Now, mi amor,” Camila says, when Lucy’s breathing has returned to a more regular version of itself. She shifts so she’s in front of Lucy and licks her right hand from her palm until she has two fingers fully in her mouth. Lucy’s jaw drops and her eyes fill up with lust all over again. “I’m gonna sit on this desk,” she informs her, pulling down her PJ shorts and her thong with a languid smirk, “and you’re gonna eat my pussy ‘til your tongue is numb.”

 

She comes three times before she decides Lucy can go back to her essay.

 

 

**xv.**

“If you think you’ll get any sleep on your last night in PR, you need to set yourself straight.” Lucy snorts at her choice of words and pulls the sheet back, exposing Camila’s naked body. “Put some clothes on, there’s a place I want you to see. Make sure you grab a hoodie too, just in case.”

Camila groans and hides her face in the pillow. What does Lucy have against sleeping after sex?

“Come on, babe. Your flight is at 9 and you’re off to Europe tomorrow.” Lucy is shuffling about and the noise of zippers opening and closing invades the room.

Get you a girlfriend who finishes packing for you when you don’t even want to move.

Camila groans some more and checks her phone. 3 AM. Of fucking course. God forbid Lucy has ideas for great nights at normal human times.

The bed dips and suddenly Lucy’s face is buried in the nape of her neck. “Do you really want to sleep when you could be fully conscious in my presence until the last possible moment?”

Camila sighs at that and turns her head so she can kiss Lucy. “Fine,” she drawls in between pecks. “But don’t hold it against me if I’m grumpy the entire time.”

 

*

 

They drive for about half an hour and the last part of the way is in complete obscurity except for the lights from their car. Lucy parks in an isolated area and Camila follows her through the dark. The smell and sound of the ocean let her know they’re headed to a beach.

“This is one of my favorite places in the world,” Lucy says, pulling her by the hand towards a set of steps made of concrete that is close by to where the soft waves are crashing. “A little cliché, I suppose, not exactly a Puerto Rican secret spot.” She shrugs and sits down at the top of the abandoned staircase. “I brought you here because I wanted to show you the sky.”

Camila smiles, her tongue between her teeth. She’s sure her eyes are sparkling as she takes a seat next to Lucy and links their arms. They kiss for a few minutes, tenderly, just their mouths exploring at a delicate pace.

Lucy pulls away first, giving her an eskimo kiss and looking up.

It’s a lovely night. There are no clouds, it’s warm with a light breeze, and the moon is crescent on the horizon, not bright enough to overshadow the stars. It’s a little surreal because the water is so clean and clear that it reflects the light and it feels like there are stars shining both in the sky and on the ocean. It reminds her of another night in Puerto Rico, one that seems like a lifetime ago. Camila pushes the memories down, trying to remember when last she'd taken the time just for stargazing. Years, probably. She's never been one to seek comfort in the sky.

That doesn’t take away from how her breath catches in her throat and her brain fails to conjure words to describe what she’s going through.

Sometimes beauty is so overpowering that it takes away all that is human and forces you to just be, in awed contemplation.

“Let’s play a game,” Lucy suggests, moving her arm so it’s wrapped around Camila’s waist. Instinctively, Camila shifts closer and places her hand on Lucy’s thigh. “I point at a constellation and you come up with a story about it and then you do the same for me.”

“What if we know the constellation and the story though?” Camila teases, shoulder bumping into Lucy’s.

“Shush it,” Lucy teases back, squeezing her hipbone. “This isn’t about our intellectual personas, Cami. Just pretend you’re a Greek myth-maker and give me your best about those three.”

Camila rolls her eyes as Lucy chooses Las Tres Marías but goes on a long-winded theory about three sisters who dreamed of becoming strippers despite herself.

It’s all worth it when Lucy laughs, head rolling back, eyes shut in delight.

Looking at Lucy like that, laughing under the starlight, Camila’s never been more content in the idea that we are all just recycled stardust.

 

*

 

“I’m not very good at drawing,” Lucy confesses once they grow tired of their game and the sky is slowly becoming lighter. “I mean, I’m not terrible, yeah? But I can never reproduce the world how I see it, and it’s even worse with colors.”

Camila hums, fingers lazily drawing patterns inside Lucy’s thigh.

“So I’ve taken to fashion and photography, because it’s the closest I can come to what I see even if it’s not quite the same. It’s the most frustrating thing to me – I can’t even express to you how much – that no matter the words I say or write, the drawings I make, the photographs I take, none of it comes even close to what I have inside.” She taps her chest with two fingers and Camila feels rather than hears the intensity in her words. “And out of everything I have tried to portray, nothing compares to the colors of the sky.”

“Why the colors of the sky?”

“The sky has all the colors you can think of, but never at the same time.”

“All the colors?” Camila asks, in a playful tone. “What about brown and green?”

“There’s green in the rainbow, you fake queer,” Lucy taunts, smacking her forehead for good measure. “And have you seen a sunset in the desert?”

“Fine, whatever,” Camila mocks, rubbing her forehead in faux offense. “Tell me more about the colors of the sky, Ms. Nothing Compares.”

“I came out to have a good time and I’m honestly feeling so attacked right now.”

“Oh, getting meme-y, are we?”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

“You shut up and kiss me.”

Lucy growls and leans forward, capturing her lips in a searing kiss that leaves her craving for more. Camila remains with her eyes closed for a few moments even after the kiss is over and is faced with Lucy looking out into space again when she opens them.

“I was serious, you know?” she whispers, nudging Lucy’s neck with her nose. “I want you to tell me more about the colors of the sky.”

“The idea of space in very comforting to me,” Lucy indulges her with a soft smile. “Maybe it shouldn’t be, but I like being reminded that we’re just a grain of sand in the history of the universe, it helps put everything in perspective.”

Camila follows Lucy’s line of sight, trying her best to see what Lucy is trying to say. It surprises her how difficult she finds it, how the exact same thing can be processed in infinitely different ways according to who you are.

It saddens her that maybe she can’t get Lucy just by listening to her and observing her and paying attention. It doesn’t mean she won’t do everything in her power to understand who she is, inside and outside, in public and in private, and in secret too. She definitely will.

Lucy deserves as much effort from her.

“When I was a teenager, I’d spend the summers here in the island, and whenever I felt sad, I’d go find a dark place, lie down on the ground and just watch the stars while listening to music until I felt better.” A bird chirps somewhere around them and Lucy seems to be brought back from her memories, if only for a moment. “One night, I was so sad that I stared at the sky until the sunrise. When the sun hit my face, I felt like I was reborn.

“Do you ever look back and realize a moment was defining to you as a person or to your life in general? That is one of my defining moments and that is why I brought you here.”

They stare at each other and Camila smiles shyly, full of questions in her eyes.

“I want you to look around you and see the dark colors fading to give room to light, cheerful ones. I want you to look at the sky and enjoy – like, really, truly feel and enjoy – the one second when the sun touches the horizon and everything goes from night to day. I want you to see the instant the sky and the earth get together and everything changes.”

Camila kisses Lucy, just once, and looks around, drinking in every single detail. How the moon is becoming harder and harder to perceive, how the stars are mere sprinkles in the sky, how it’s still dark but not that dark and there’s a sense of possibility everywhere around them.

And then it happens. The second the sun peaks at the earth for the first time. Camila widens her eyes because she’s seen the sunrise before, she’s been awake at sunrise too many times to count, but she never _looked_. She’d never stopped to see the world changing.

It’s like before sunrise the world was lighter but still in the shadows and in that one moment, every single shadow is conquered by the sunlight and every single thing becomes so bright it makes her blink. To process everything, to swallow the lump in her throat and to quiet down the thumping in her chest.

For a full minute, she’s just gaping at her surroundings, entranced by the jade green of the trees before the sand, fascinated with the golden hue of the sand mixed with the rising tide.

She thinks maybe she understands now, what Lucy means when she talks about the colors of the sky.

“What are you looking at?” she asks sweetly, when she glances at Lucy and realizes she’s already staring at her.

“You,” Lucy replies, shrugging, her eyes twinkling with warmth. Camila’s heart becomes too small to contain the emotions pouring out of it. “Te quiero como quiero a los colores del cielo.”

There aren’t enough colors in the galaxy to paint the unadulterated joy in Camila’s smile and the blissful surrender in the kiss she gives Lucy, the kind of kiss you give with your lips, your hands, your shallow breath and your whole soul.

Once in a blue moon, if you’re really lucky, you know a moment is defining when you’re still in the middle of living it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> once again, this was getting so big i decided to split it in half. at this rate, this story will reach 30k and laugh in my face for eternity.
> 
> btw, the last two segments are set at steps beach, a real place in PR that is beautiful and a great spot for stargazing too :)


	4. xvi-xix

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you could be so kind as to watch [this video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WffEFQHcZbo) at some point in your life, that gives the general feeling of Camila's mood throughout these sections. thank you.

**xvi.**

The first stop of Camila’s European Tour is the United Kingdom. The opening concert is in London, then she has one in Manchester and another in Brighton.

It is somewhat disconcerting and not something she’s proud of, but the idea of going to Manchester next is what has her thinking of Ariana and ultimately makes her decide to give her friend a call. They keep in touch through texts and snaps, but it’s been a while since they last FaceTimed.

 _“Mila, hi!”_ Ariana says with a huge grin. She looks freshly showered whereas everything about Camila is pure exhaustion. _“You’re lucky I just finished my gym routine and have some free time now. Where are you? I thought you were going to Europe?”_

“I am in Europe. London, to be precise.” Camila snuggles among the bed pillows and returns Ariana’s smile. “Today was the first gig but I couldn’t sleep when I got back to the hotel so I thought we should catch up.”

It had occurred to her on the flight to London that, apart from Ashlee, no one in her circle of friends knows about Lucy – and the only reason Ashlee knows is due to Lucy’s visits during the US tour, since Camila hasn’t been forthcoming at all with information about their relationship.

Maybe it’s time that starts changing.

 _“I’m working on my new album,”_ Ariana shares excitedly. _“Hold on, let me get my headphones and find a quiet spot.”_

“I’m dating Lucy Vives,” Camila blurts out to the shuffling noise on the other side. She fears if she starts on music discussions with Ariana, she’ll lose the courage to tell her.

 _“You what?”_ Ariana asks, looking very much like a deer caught in headlights. _“When did this happen?”_

“Well, remember that party in LA when you two met?” Camila hides behind a pillow, and mumbles, “We kinda, sorta, pretty much made out for a very long time after you left.”

 _“Oh my God, Mila, that party was in January and you’re telling me this now?!”_ Ariana seems somewhere between ecstatic and offended and it’s very entertaining to Camila. _“Wait, she called me a random night after that party to ask me for your number. She sounded so drunk and conflicted, it was kinda funny, but I didn’t think much of it and I completely forgot to text you to let her know she’d asked.”_

“It’s alright, she called me herself and informed me of all that.” Camila chuckles. “Nothing happened that time though. She just came to pick me up and we stayed up all night talking.”

 _“Wow, this is…”_ Ariana appears to remember she was searching for a quiet spot and takes a seat at what Camila presumes is her desk. _“I mean, this is Lauren’s ex we are talking about so, like, sure, she was flirting shamelessly with you at that party, but I didn’t think it would get this far. I didn’t even think you would actually make out, to be honest. You just seemed amused that she was giving you so much attention when back during her days of dating Lauren, you two barely spoke.”_

“I _was_ amused. Around The X-Factor days, sometimes I hung out with both her and Lauren and we got along great, but when Lauren and Lucy rekindled their friendship – or relationship, whatever –, she never talked to me more than the bare minimum.” Camila frowns. She’d forgotten about that and now she’s wondering why Lucy had behaved that way. “She wasn’t rude or anything, you know? She just stuck to her business and kept away from me.”

 _“On Lauren’s request, I bet.”_ Ariana rolls her eyes. _“But tell me everything, please! Are you happy?”_

Camila nods and proceeds to tell Ariana everything. She hadn’t planned on it – they are friends, yes, though she’s closer to Ashlee and Shawn, even Taylor –, but perhaps it makes sense to have it be like this when she can’t disassociate Ariana from the blossoming of her relationship.

It’s quite cute when Ariana lets out the sweetest ‘aww’ at learning their first sober kiss had been a result of Lucy seducing her by singing _Into You_ , and Camila can’t help blushing profusely.

The conversation gets serious when Camila ends up voicing how she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop, how everything feels like a dream that she will inevitably wake up from, how sometimes she thinks of Lucy and she’s overcome with a chest-constricting feeling of hopelessness because of everything she has to lose.

Everything she will lose.

“I think I’m holding back, Ari,” she admits, voice small with shame. “I like her _so much_ but I’m terrified all the time and I don’t know what to do.”

Ariana pouts the slightest bit, and Camila just knows she’d be wrapped in a tight hug right now if they were together in person.

 _“Sweetie, talking only from what you’ve told me, Lucy is crazy about you and she’s invested in what you two have,”_ she says, tilting her head to the side and extending her hand as if she’s trying to reach her. _“It’s okay to allow yourself to be happy. It’s okay to allow yourself to be loved. There’s nothing wrong with loving and being loved in return.”_

Camila feels stupid, but her eyes fill up with tears at Ariana’s words.

“How do I do that?” she asks, a hint of despair in her tone. “Ari, how can I do that?”

 _“You’re gonna have to trust Lucy.”_ Ariana offers a warm smile, her eyebrows coming together and moving slightly upwards with compassion, and Camila’s never loved her more. _“And you’re gonna have to believe that good love can happen to you, too.”_

The tears do fall this time and Camila bites her bottom lip to keep its tremor in check.

Ariana leaves a moment for her to take a deep breath and then steers the conversation away from the heavy topic. It’s good that she does, Camila needs the distraction.

By the time they finish their call, one hour later and updated on their music and personal lives, Camila feels calmer and also relieved she’d let it all out. Turning the light off, she sings half of _Thinking ‘Bout You_ to Lucy in a voice message and finally succumbs to sleep.

 

 

**xvii.**

The thing about Lucy is that her love is unwavering.

There isn’t a single day that passes by without Lucy letting her know that she’s appreciated and cherished. Sure, there are days when they don’t talk on the phone because Camila is so busy that when she manages to call Lucy, it’s at times when the unstable situation in Puerto Rico works against them and she’s unreachable. Even in those days, there are snaps and poems shared and stupid selfies with bright eyes and tongues poking out between teeth.

It’s like Lucy guesses the moments when Camila’s anxiety gets the best of her and does everything in her power to tamper it down.

It’s uncanny, and yet her insecurities still run rampant and free despite proof that they’re unwarranted.

Camila thinks she should be used to the feeling of being loved regardless of what words have been used to express such concept. She has so many fans who move mountains for her, who tell her how much they adore her every single day. Every concert in her first tour as a solo headliner has been an experience in being showered in love and ecstasy.

But love, of the romantic sort, has never been kind to her. It reaches her with second intentions, with sexual intentions. It reaches her with fear and shame. It reaches her with secrecy or convenience.

Love – the romantic love that makes her cry in every movie and telenovela – has never reached her with selflessness and patience.

Camila had always believed she loved so fully, so fiercely, but now she’s looking love in the eyes and she is _scared_. Everything is so much, too much, all the time, and she feels like a child who’s afraid of the dark.

Camila Cabello is in love with love but she’s terrified of being loved by Lucy Vives.

 

*

 

“Mami?” she calls, when they’re in a waffles café in Antwerp, two weeks after the European tour started. “How did you know papi was the person for you?”

Sinu looks up from the photograph she was taking of the food and stares at her inquisitively. Camila gulps and struggles to not avert her eyes.

“You know how many men have this hábito terrible where they’re very nice and gentle to you because they’re courting you, pero en realidad ellos no son así?” her mom starts, setting down the phone and grabbing the cutlery. “I thought your papi was like that too. Yo pienso eso de casi todos los hombres, claro. But when he took me on our first date, he was nice, genuinely nice, to everyone we came across. The waiters, the cashier at the grocery shop, we even helped someone carry their bags to their car. When you are pretending to be nice, you have a target and your façade falls when dealing with other people.”

“That’s what made you know?” Camila asks, surprised.

“No, that’s what made me know he was worth it,” Sinu corrects, judging her from over the rim of her glasses. “I knew he was the person for me when my grandmother had a stroke and he stood by me, he went to visit her with me, he went through meeting my family at a time when he wasn’t ready because supporting me was more important to him than his nerves and self-preservation instincts.” She takes a bite of the waffle and hums in delight. “Fue así que descubrí que podía confiar en él y fue poder confiar en él que me hizo saber que él era la mejor persona para mí.”

Camila nods and begins playing with the banana slices on her plate, lost in thought.

“Pero no creo que sea esa la pregunta que me quieres hacer,” Sinu prods, gently. “Or am I wrong?”

“No sé qué preguntar, mami,” she replies, with a sigh. “Lucy me dijo ‘te quiero’ en Puerto Rico y me corazón estalló en mi pecho, pero no le respondí.”

“You don’t love her?”

“Love is a strong word,” Camila is quick to interject. “I like her more than I can express, but this is new to me.”

“¿Querer a alguien es nuevo para ti?”

“No, mami, of course not.” Camila scoffs, sticking five banana slices in her mouth at the same time just because she can. “What is new to me is things going well. It doesn’t feel real, it feels like I’m floating and trying to hold on to clouds.”

Her mother studies her with the kind of fondness that crinkles around the eyes and Camila feels tiny, like a ladybug on a lily. “I thought young love was supposed to be like that,” she says, gaze dazed and dreamy. “¿No estás feliz?”

“¿Y si la pierdo? What if she wakes up one day and decides it’s not worth it, mami?” She’s so tired of having her feelings lumped in her throat. “She used to date Lauren and now they’re friends again. What if–  why would anyone _not_ choose Lauren?”

“Would you choose Lauren now?”

“No, but–”

“Then why would Lucy?” Sinu asks, and she sounds so genuinely puzzled that Camila takes comfort from it. “Why does Lauren have to be at the center of your fears even now? Why do you give her that power? Why should she be better than you?”

“She isn’t, it’s just–“ Camila sighs, stuffing her mouth with a piece of waffle larger than she can handle. “I’m always crushing on people, but the only person I’ve ever loved was Lauren.” She truly isn't sure if she’s swallowing her emotions or her food at this point. “And now Lucy, she… I could love her, you know? Sometimes I think I already do but the last time I felt anything close to this, my heart ended up shattered and bleeding on the floor of a hotel room.” She drops her head on the table and groans. “I feel so stupid, mami, I’m always on and on about love, everyone thinks of me as a hopeless romantic, and when I get the chance to live it, I’m all troubles and doubts. Why am I like this?”

“You are perfectly wonderful and worthy of love and you know it, sólo tienes que parar de luchar contra eso,” Sinu says, patting the back of her head as if she’s a dog who’s been a good boy. “All I can do is tell you that I’ve seen the way Lucy looks at you.”

“How does Lucy look at me?” she asks, swatting her mom’s hand away and supporting her chin on the table to stare up at her.

“Como si fueras el primer día de sol después de meses de lluvia.”

It’s a shrug of a sentence and yet Camila feels it vibrate in her chest and behind her eyes, soft and whimsical and true.

Like the colors of the sky.

“It’s okay to be vulnerable in front of the people you love,” Sinu continues, gentle in her tone and in how she pushes her empty plate forward to entwine her hands behind it. “Lucy won’t like you any less if you share this with her.”

“She’s so strong and confident in herself…” It comes out like a whine but Camila believes it’s more of an impressed huff. “She’ll think I’m ridiculous and childish and run away from me.”

“You need to give her a chance, mija. You need to let her either show you that she’s in this for real, that she accepts you even at your worst, at your most scared; or show you that she’s not worth your time and your feelings because she just wants to be there when it’s good,” Sinu says, leaning forward to wrap her wrist. “You’ll never know if you don’t let her see you.”

Camila worries at her bottom lip, navigating her mom’s words like a castaway on a raft.

“All this talk of love and you still haven’t given her a chance.”

 

 

**xviii.**

It becomes an obsession of sorts after that. Europe is beautiful and sophisticated and ancient, and Camila goes from city to city only vaguely aware of it, her mind so hazy with ideas, her heart so heavy with questions, that there’s only so much her eyes can apprehend and retain.

When she’s not at work, she’s thinking about love and how there’s more to love than just feeling it. She spends hours upon hours pondering about her insecurities and how they came to be, makes conversations up in her head that offer her solutions and justifications.

She thinks about it in the Vigeland Sculpture Park in Oslo, lost in the naked, frail bodies of the statues that are staggering in their vulnerability. She thinks about it in the Palace of Versailles, amidst the endless selfies with fans. She thinks about it in the Red Light District, surrounded by security and unable to see anything other than the crowd.

She thinks about it walking the streets of Warsaw at night and sitting inside the Church of Our Savior in Copenhagen.

She thinks about it every time she communicates with Lucy.

(but she doesn’t say anything. she’s not brave enough.

not yet.)

 

*

 

When Camila answers the FaceTime call, she’s greeted by a string of coos and squeals as if she’d accidentally dialed a fan instead of Lucy.

 _“I can’t believe you’re finally letting me see your Karla look!”_ Lucy squeaks, fists hovering in front of her face like she wishes she could squeeze Camila’s cheeks. _“How come I never see you in cute, dorky glasses? This is homophobic.”_

Camila laughs. _“Shut up, you’re such an ass.”_ And then, quieter and with a hint of shyness, _“Hi.”_

 _“Hi,_ _cariño. Te extraño mucho_ _,”_ Lucy whispers, careful and tender as only she can be. _“How was your day?”_

Camila tells her about the concert in Cologne and how Germany looks and feels much nicer in the summer, and she lets Lucy talk about her family’s fundraising efforts for the rebuilding of a poor neighborhood in Mayagüez. They’re both professional ramblers, the conversation flowing easily from one topic to another, in between banter and cheesy declarations.

Camila loves it. She loves how Lucy makes her feel.

“I’ve been rereading _The Perks of Being a Wallflower_ ,” she shares at some point, “and there’s this part that always gets to me.”

_“’We accept the love we think we deserve?’”_

“Yes.” Camila blinks, adjusts the glasses on her nose. “How did you know?”

 _“Lucky guess.”_ Lucy shrugs, the action making her shirt slide to reveal her shoulder. It’s so sexy Camila just wants to die. _“I think about that a lot.”_

“Do you agree?”

_“I do, yes. For better or worse, it affects all of us, just in different ways.”_

“So you think that, if a relationship is abusive, whoever is in it deserves that?” Camila provokes, pursing her lips.

 _“_ No one _deserves abuse,”_ Lucy counters, immediately fired up like Camila knew she would be. _“What I mean is that people in abusive relationships accept that abuse because it’s what they perceive as love, it’s what they’ve learned is a partnership. Obviously this is an oversimplification, there are many factors to be considered and you_ know _this.”_ She points her finger at the screen. _“Stop trying to play devil’s advocate when you agree with me, Cami.”_

Camila chuckles, heart warm with the little things Lucy’s getting to know about her. “Do you think it’s possible to reject good love because we think we’re unworthy of it then?”

Lucy takes a minute to reply, and Camila can see in her face that she’s really thinking the question through.

 _“I think that is indeed possible,”_ she offers, tentatively, _“but I also believe that people love in different ways and they can mistake those differences for lack of feeling or affection.”_

Camila tilts her head to the side, intrigued. “What do you mean?”

 _“Have you ever heard about the languages of love?”_ Camila shakes her head and Lucy continues, _“It’s this theory that everyone has preferred ways of feeling loved, which often translate into how they show love to others. This can lead to miscommunication since what one partner believes is an expression of love, to another partner may be irrelevant on an emotional level.”_

“What do you mean?” Camila repeats, furrowing her brows. She’d categorized people as romantic and non-romantic, but she’d never considered how demonstrations of love could also have categories. In her mind, if love exists, all expressions of it are valuable and fall under the same level of importance.

_“Like, you know how some people are always buying little presents because they remind them of you? And other people couldn’t care less about gifts. Or how some people need constant verbal validation while others feel safer with actions instead of words.”_

“So what exactly are the languages of love according to this theory?”

 _“I can feel your skepticism from this side of the ocean, Cami,”_ Lucy teases, arching one eyebrow. _“There’s… quality time, physical touch, gift giving, words of love and I don’t remember the other one. Gestures or actions of love, or something about acts of service like, helping your partner out in mundane things? One of these two.”_ She hums, staring at the ceiling thoughtfully. _“Maybe there’s six love languages instead of five.”_

“What is yours?”

_“Guess.”_

Camila taps her chin, faking a reflexive pose. “Physical touch?”

 _“I can never tell if that’s an actual emotional need of mine or if it’s just me being Latina,”_ Lucy jokes, and Camila giggles. _“I think one could say that out of all these languages, the one I care about the least is gift giving. I don’t believe I care much for words either?”_ Camila widens her eyes and Lucy lifts her palms up in a placating gesture. _“Like, of course words are important! I love being told that I’m appreciated and waking up to cute texts! I just mean that if we’re talking about emotional resonance, I prefer if a partner shows me they love me, rather than tell me they do.”_

“Good to know,” Camila mutters under her breath. Lucy looks at her questioningly, but Camila moves on from there. “I think words matter to me, I need that type of security, you know? But it’s also true that for me every single demonstration of love is meaningful and powerful so I can’t pinpoint my love language or whatever.”

 _“There are tests you can do online,”_ Lucy informs, yawning. _“Babe, is it okay if we hang up? I promised nana I’d watch the telenovela with her tonight and we’ve been talking for – holy fuck, has it already been two hours?!”_

Camila shakes her head, endeared. “It’s fine, corazón. I should sleep anyway, I have an 8 AM wake-up call and it’s, uh… 2:34.”

Lucy scrunches up her nose, displeased with her sleeping patterns, but she says nothing and Camila is thankful for it. It’s bad enough that her mom nags her to go to bed early every single day of her life.

The goodbyes are bittersweet – a little corny on Camila’s end since she lives for Lucy’s flustered glare – and not that long. They miss each other a lot but there’s only ten days left of tour so the worst is behind them. All it takes is a little patience until they can meet in Miami.

It doesn’t surprise Camila that she spends the next hour reading on the languages of love and eventually gives in to curiosity and attempts a few quizzes.

In reality, the main surprise of the last few months – other than falling for Lucy Vives, that is, – is that loving comes with a lot of learning too.

 

 

**xix.**

Her last concert in the European tour is finally here.

It makes her feel bad that she’s so excited for the end of it when she lives for her fans’ happiness and too many of them can only see her once every few years, but she hasn’t seen Lucy in 41 – forty-one! – days. And between work commitments and travelling schedules, it will be 43 days before they can be together again. She believes this relentless craving of Lucy’s presence will quiet down once the relationship isn’t so new, though she is very enamored with how immersing it is, to open your heart to a secret part of yourself and let someone see it and treasure it for the precious thing it is.

“Alright, Lisbon!” she shouts, during her encore. “Since this is the closing concert of my European tour, how about I give you a little something as a parting gift?”

The crowd goes wild and Camila smiles, fingers tapping a familiar rhythm on the side of the acoustic guitar. They’re a sweet audience, very excited and eager, and definitely the loudest she’s had in Europe – she’s even had to ask her team to raise the volume on her in-ear to keep track of herself. The venue is very welcoming, almost perfectly round and giving the illusion of an intimate atmosphere with its old chandelier and its baroque-looking decoration. She’s been there for one hour and a half and somehow feels connected to everyone, feels more fully in the moment than she’s been the past weeks.

It’s a nice goodbye, as far as she’s concerned.

“I have been writing some songs in my free time. Do you want to hear them?”

She can’t help chuckling at herself. Of course they want to hear them, asking questions to a concert audience is always rhetorical.

“Don’t get too hyped because this was just me playing in my guitar, no producer has even heard this, so the likelihood of this song never seeing more than just this moment is… high.” The crowd laughs along with her and it’s a good feeling. “I’ll just do a little bit, yeah? Ready?

_“Shed a tear 'cause I'm missing you / I'm still alright to smile / Babe, I think about you every day now / Was a time when I wasn't sure / But you set my mind at ease / There is no doubt you're in my heart now”_

She pauses and strums on her guitar for a few seconds before she returns her attention to the crowd, “You know what, I actually quite like this song so I’ll fight whoever I need to to have it in CC2. What did you think?”

She hears some fantastically flamboyant screams of ‘gurl, you gotta give us more!’ and she chuckles at it, facing that side of the audience when she replies, “I can’t give you more of this one because this is all I’ve gotten so far in terms of melody. But I can give you a tease of another one?”

Camila doesn’t wait for the crowd to react, she goes straight into awfully dramatic rap mode:

_“Everything about you is how I'd wanna be / Your freedom comes naturally / Everything about you is so easy to love / They're watching you from above / Everything about you resonates happiness / Now I won't settle for less”_

Her fans shout and whistle and clap, clamorous and exuberant.

“Yay!” she jests, thumbs-upping the audience with both hands. “I can already tell CC2 will be a success!”

People laugh and applaud some more and Camila thinks that yeah, this is a great way to close the curtain on Europe for now.

“Alright, guys, let’s get to our baby Havana now. I wanna hear everyone singing along!”

 

*

 

Camila walks away from the stage smiley and sweaty, tripping on her feet as she tries to take her shoes off without stopping on the way.

“Voy al baño, Cami,” Sinu informs from behind her. “Ya te veo.”

She barely listens to her mom, she just goes inside the dressing room and slams the door, pulling her crop top over her head.

“Wow, this _is_ quite the girlfriend reception, I gotta admit.”

Camila leaps in the air, hands clutching her chest. It takes her a moment to turn around.

“Lucy?”

“Unless you have another girlfriend I don’t know of?” she asks, eyebrow lifted and crooked grin, in all her stylish glory of circular sunglasses on her head and bra visible under a see-through black top.

“Oh my God, Lucy!” Camila _runs_ towards her and she doesn’t think she’s ever hugged anyone with such force. It’s weeks of longing and wonder running from her arms to Lucy's body, it’s one of Lucy’s hands clinging to the hair tresses on the nape of her neck, it’s her fingers digging in Lucy’s back as if they’re holding on to an alternative reality.

Lucy lets her stay in the hug, lets her claw at it and breathe it in, burn whole and drown in it, pretends she doesn’t hear Camila’s dry sob, and when it’s been long enough that Camila dares take a step back, she places both her hands on her face and kisses the tip of her nose.

“I’ve missed you so much, cariño. It’s like my heartstrings have been stretched too thin and I’ve been needing you to tune them back.” She leans forward and kisses Camila on the lips chastely. “Te quiero.”

Camila beams, tummy so full of butterflies she fears she might fly, and kisses her again, all lips and teeth and devotion.

“Ahem,” Sinu coughs, making them jump apart. “Glad to see you’re all caught up.”

Camila blushes, but moves to grab Lucy’s hand anyway.

“Wait,” she says, gesturing between the two of them after several beats. “You knew about this?”

“How else do you think I could surprise you in your dressing room, Cami?” Lucy asks, laughing with Sinu. “Exchanging numbers with your mom really was a useful idea you had. I can’t believe I was embarrassed at first.”

“You two have been plotting behind my back?” Camila demands, eyes squinted in false offense. “Oh betrayal, thou is my middle name!” She brings the back of her free hand to her forehead.

Lucy snorts. “You mean melodramatic is thy middle name, Cabello?”

“Oh shush, you like it.”

Lucy pulls her close and gives her a soft peck. “I do,” she concedes, eyes smiling with affection.

One day, Camila promises herself, she will look for the scientific explanation behind the somersaults her heart does in reaction to Lucy.

“I hate to interrupt, pero tienes que irte, Lucy,” Sinu tells them. “El bodyguard está esperando y cuanto más tiempo pase, más probable es que alguien te vea y te reconozca. It’s only the fanatics that stick around waiting for Camila to leave the venue.” She rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “Those know who you are.”

Lucy nods and kisses Camila’s cheek. “I’ll wait for you at the hotel.” She kisses Camila again, this time on the mouth. “And don’t take forever, it’s been 41 days already!”

Camila laughs at that, so loud it comes out as more of a cackle, and watches as Lucy also spares Sinu a quick hug.

“Gracias por eso, mami.”

The quiet click of the door as Lucy leaves has Camila’s breath hitching in her throat, her mind not yet certain this has just happened. That Lucy is here, that Lucy flew all the way to Portugal to surprise her.

That Lucy keeps on finding new ways to show her how much she cares.

“Lo viste?” Sinu questions, breaking her out of her thoughts.

“What?”

“The way she was looking at you, mija.”

“Yes, I did.”

They stay silent after that, as Camila gets rid of her concert outfit and puts some comfortable clothes on, fixing her make-up just enough.

There’s no need for more words, not right now. Camila knows what her mother is trying to say.

She’s starting to see it too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i may be a fic writer, but i ain't no songwriter. lol lyrics used in camila's concert belong to guns n roses and muse.


	5. xx-xxi

**xx.**

Lucy convinces her to stay in Lisbon a few extra days. Of course she does. Camila has a ten-day break before the last leg of the tour in South America and she was going to spend it in Miami so she could also be with her family and see her friends, but she can give Lucy half of that time. There’s only three weeks left of tour anyway.

Lucy is the embodiment of excitement, with her Lonely Planet guide all scribbled and a couple of pages printed from an email Vero had sent her – turns out Vero had been to Portugal the year before and she has a long list of recommendations.

Camila doesn’t care much either way. She just wants to spend quality time with Lucy: where that happens to be doesn’t matter to her. They could be in the middle of Antarctica chasing after penguins and she’d still be ecstatic.

They decide to spend the first day at the beach, which Camila believes counts as a much needed rest day. Lucy had done a lot of research and eventually found out about a beach not far from Lisbon that is very hard to access and, as such, able to give them their much needed privacy. They wake up at 6:30 AM, steal a lot of breakfast food from the hotel and drive for 45 minutes until they reach a dirt road that ends in a small makeshift parking area. That is followed by a 20-minute dangerous hike in the middle of the mountains with no sign of any ocean that Camila absolutely did not ask for nor ever wanted to do in her life, and she hates Lucy a little.

It’s all worth it when they get to an empty beach of beautiful golden sand and water of a dream blue, the rocks surrounding the area giving them the illusion of having found one of nature’s hidden places.

Lucy takes off all her clothes except the bikini bottom and Camila can’t believe she’ll have to spend her day controlling the urge to jump her girlfriend’s bones. They set up the sun umbrella together and then apply sunscreen, and Lucy jokes the entire time about the inevitable sexual tension of lotion application, leaving Camila flustered and sheepish because yeah, she really wants to touch Lucy in a non-PG way right now.

“You know what, Cami?” Lucy eventually says, voice dropping to a low, seductive husk. “We should take our chances while we can. The later it gets, the more likely it is other people will arrive even if today _is_ Monday.”

That’s how Camila has sex at a beach for the first time.

She doesn’t think she will do it again. Her body is still reeling over the way Lucy’s tongue curled around her clit, but she has sand in body parts she tends to forget she has and going to the ocean isn’t fixing it.

Lucy just laughs, tickles her to the water and back, lays her down by the waves and fucks her again. Then Camila pulls her to the deeper part of the ocean and they swim around each other while fucking each other until they’re sore.

It’s honestly one of the best days Camila’s ever had in her life.

 

*

 

Lucy tries to get her to see the sunset at the beach but Camila has no particular desire for death by hiking in the dark so she tugs a pouting Lucy along to the car.

They shower and order dinner from room service, intent on spending the night huddled together half-naked while exploring Portuguese television. They’re too exhausted for sex, they just kiss and cuddle and pay moderate attention to whatever is on the screen.

“Why do you like me?” Camila asks at some point. She’s in that limbo state between awake and asleep, conscious enough to know what she just said, but not enough to think of it as a heavy-loaded question.

Lucy shifts under her and repositions herself so she can stare at Camila’s face and Camila blinks awake at the movements.

“Why do you think I like you?”

Camila shakes her head a little, not entirely aware of what Lucy is clapping back at. “Is it because I’m super cute and funny?”

“Please, your mom is a lot funnier than you are.” Lucy purses her lips and Camila shoves her playfully. “Is that all?” Camila nods, bashful. “Wow, how little you think of me. Why do _you_ like me then?”

Camila moves so she’s lying on her side, head supported by her hand. It’s a little embarrassing – and it’s unclear whether she would have done it if she wasn’t in a very lenient, sleepy state –, but she goes on a passionate rant about Lucy.

She talks about Lucy’s endless intelligence and relentless curiosity, how she knows so much about so many things and yet she always yearns to learn more. She talks about her obsession with Lucy’s boobs and how she would bite her skinny ass all day at all times if she could. She positively fangirls over Lucy’s cute chipmunk cheeks and goes on a side rant about how she has at least ten different smiles according to the situation and how there’s this one when she’s deliriously happy that turns her eyes into slits. She praises her for her patience and kindness, for her strength of character and perseverance. She pretty much flails about Lucy’s humanitarian work and how inspiring it is that Lucy always puts her time and money where her mouth is.

“It’s just–” Camila swallows, flushing as she catches up with her rambling. “God, you are _so_ much and I don’t… I’m not… Why?”

Lucy tilts her head to the side, squints a bit. “You hide your insecurities well.”

Camila averts her eyes, self-conscious, but Lucy gently holds her chin to keep their gazes locked.

“There’s a lot to unwrap there, but first I want you to remember that I am human too. I will hurt and I will hurt you and I will need you to lo–, to stand by me anyway. Please, don’t put me on a pedestal, I don’t deserve it and it’s not fair to either of us.”

Camila nods and Lucy leans in, kissing her tenderly.

“That said, thank you for that. Seeing myself through your eyes is beautiful.” Camila blushes again. She wonders if she’ll ever stop blushing over Lucy being Lucy. “And there’s a lot I could say about why I like you, Cami, because there’s a lot to like. I could mention the way you bite your bottom lip or how you look at me from under your eyelashes and I lose all ability to function. I could go on and on about your talent and dedication to your music and your fans, or about your relationship with your family.” She pauses and fixes Camila’s hair, fingers lingering lovingly next to it. “But there’s something I need you to know and I need you to _listen_.”

She acquiesces, kissing Lucy’s fingertips as they slowly pull away from her face.

“Your heart, Cami,” Lucy starts, bottom lip wobbly with emotion. “I am angry so many times. The world is filled with vile people, filthy vermin sucking the energy of everything that is good. I fight and fight and fight some more and nothing is enough, there’s always more scum, always someone else powerful enough not to face consequences. So I get angry, and I despair more times than I can tell you, and I cry a lot and I’ve even had some issues with alcohol in the past. Coping with injustice is not something that comes naturally to me – unlike freedom, if your song is anything to go by,” she adds in a teasing tone. Camila hides her face behind her hands until Lucy doesn’t allow it anymore. “You have the purest, sweetest heart I have ever seen in my life, cariño. One word from you and my bitterness is replaced with hope, my anger fades into renewed courage to start anew. Everything about your heart is joy and warmth and light, and everything about your heart makes me believe in a world where dreams can come true and love can be the dominant force. You ask me why I like you, but the real question is, how could I _not_?

“I don’t know what happened to make you believe you’re unworthy of someone like me, but you are, cariño. You are so worthy of me and of so many people who are much better than me and it’s honestly so so flattering that you’ve given me a chance.” Lucy chuckles in disbelief. “Like, thinking about it from an outsider’s perspective… It really is amazing that you even looked my way that time at that party. I should be thanking you and that huge heart of yours for not excluding me out of your life forever.”

“Why were you so cold towards me when you were dating Lauren anyway?”

“I don’t want to rub salt on old wounds, Cami,” Lucy says, wincing, “but there was a lot of tension between the girls and you and I didn’t want to be in the middle of that. It wasn’t my place. I’m sorry if that hurt you,” she adds, playing with Camila’s free hand.

“It didn’t. I assumed Lauren wanted you to stay away and what reason would you have not to comply?” She attempts a shrug, but it’s hard in her current position. “I was just curious.”

“Do you see it now though?” Lucy prods, nudging Camila’s nose with hers. “Why it’s impossible for me not to like you.”

Camila sighs and lies back down on the mattress, staring at the ceiling until Lucy’s face enters her field of vision again.

“I’m just scared, Lucy.”

“Of what?”

She inhales and exhales, remembers a poem she’d read that has haunted her ever since. “I’m scared you’ll realize I’m just bones and questions and leave me for something solid.”

Lucy stays quiet after that, studying every inch of her face, with her eyes and the tips of her fingers. Camila doesn’t mind the silence or the scrutiny, she’s grown fond of basking in Lucy’s attention whenever the opportunity arises.

She’s getting used to letting Lucy see _her_.

“I love your face,” Lucy whispers after a while, reverent and with a line between her eyebrows, as if she can’t quite believe what she’s seeing. Camila offers a soft smile but she can’t help her puzzled expression. “I want to be with you so long that I see your face changing.”

Camila’s heart does its thing then. It races out of her chest, into her ears and her tummy, bubbling beneath the surface in a rhythm so vibrant it becomes a soundtrack.

“I’m not afraid of your scars and I want to show you all of mine,” Lucy says into a kiss, moving so she’s on top of Camila. “Is that okay?”

Camila wraps her arms around Lucy’s waist, feels the heat shared between their skins, and allows a tear to fall.

“More than okay, corazón.” And lower, like a secret being breathed into the crook of Lucy’s neck, “Gracias.”

They fall asleep like that.

 

*

 

The next day, Lucy wakes her up at 8 AM. A little better than 6:30 as far as holiday schedules go, but Camila is still grumpy when she follows Lucy into the car. A car with a driver and a bodyguard this time.

“C’mon, babe,” Lucy says, elbowing her to get her attention. “We have to be the first ones there so we can convince Bruce to let us explore the place alone. I promise it will be worth it.”

Said place is a property bought by some eccentric millionaire in the late 19th century that includes a palace and extensive gardens, and they are indeed the first people there. Perks of arriving before the opening time. Since no one else shows up in the meantime, Bruce enters with them but walks towards the coffee shop with earphones in and a newspaper under his arm.

“This place is supposed to be awesome!” Lucy explains, map in hand and eyes twinkling like a child’s on Christmas morning. “Like, it’s not as old as it looks, but the dude who bought it was very into mysticism so he ordered the architect to come up with the most extravagant ideas possible. Vero said it was her favorite thing to see in Portugal.”

It doesn’t take long for Camila to understand Lucy and Vero’s excitement. The property is filled with secret pathways and little hiding spots. There’s a cave with a view to a waterfall and you can go stone-hopping on the lake to leave it and see the waterfall from the front. There are caves that become chapels and chapels with not-so-secret tunnels that lead to caves. There are spiraling stone staircases from one place to the other in the garden and even the palace itself looks like the kind that should appear in a fantasy or horror movie.

The place is so extra it could pass for an adult Disneyland.

Camila’s favorite part is the initiation well though. It’s nine levels deep and several feet wide, a staircase running around it from the surface to the underground. There’s something dreamlike about standing at the bottom of it, right in the middle of the compass designed on the floor, alone with Lucy, looking up at the sky. It’s one of those moments when words leave her, so she searches for Lucy’s hand and they stay connected by only their pinkies until Camila is so fulfilled with enchantment and possibility, she just has to kiss her.

“The theory goes that this well has nine levels as homage to Dante,” Lucy informs, pulling away from the kiss to look up again. “They’re supposed to represent the nine circles of Hell, the nine sections of Purgatory and the nine skies which constitute Paradise.”

“Somehow, I can see how all of that could coexist here.”

Lucy nods and wraps an arm around Camila’s neck. “So what circle of Hell should be reserved for me, huh?”

Camila laughs and hits her girlfriend on the stomach playfully. “You better behave, I don’t want to spend the afterlife away from you.”

Lucy snorts. “Don’t worry, my scrawny ass would follow your perfectly-sized backside asset through all 27 circles of the afterlife.”

They’re just joking, but Camila can read between the lines and find their promise to each other to stick around.

Their promise to try and build something that can last.

 

*

 

They sneak out of Quinta da Regaleira and only text Bruce when they’re already in the pathway to the Castle of the Moors. Camila apologizes profusely through several voice messages, swearing they won’t tell anyone and they’ll buy him a lot of beers tonight before they need to go to the hotel so it isn’t considered working hours for him anyway and he won’t get in trouble. Or more trouble. Camila rambles a lot, and she really doesn’t wish to cause Bruce any harm, she just wants to enjoy time with her girlfriend in private and it’s not like there’s many people in this town anyway.

Lucy just rolls her eyes, dragging Camila by her wrist as she blabbers to her phone like a mad woman.

It _is_ sort of hilarious when Bruce replies with a mere ‘ok’ and Lucy cackles like a Disney villain at the offended expression on Camila’s face.

“Oh come on,” she whines, crossing her arms and pouting. “I was worried about him, I don’t want him to lose his job because of me!”

“Cami, you are the cutest angel in the universe and I’m sure Bruce appreciates your concern as much as I do, but we’ve been here for three hours and we’ve seen maybe twenty different people, tops? He isn’t stupid and tomorrow we need to have him around since Lisbon _definitely_ has more people than Sintra. Why waste precious alone time today?”

“Would it hurt him to at least _pretend_ to be a little angry?” Camila scoffs, sticking her tongue out at Lucy. “I can’t even have a moment of rebellion without everyone downplaying it.”

“Increíble,” Lucy says, shaking her head in amusement. “Vamonos. Vero told me that if you stray from the path to the castle, you’ll find trails that lead to awesome natural viewpoints. With any luck, we’ll get to one at an acceptable lunch time.”

“I’m already hungry so this better be quick.”

“Tu madre no me avisó que eras tan high maintenance, Camilita.”

Camila just glares.

 

*

 

Being a pop star has greatly improved Camila’s coordination, no one can deny that. What it hasn’t done, however, is freeing her from her natural clumsiness. After a hike to get to a beach yesterday, she’s now fighting for her life going uphill in the middle of what seems to her is a fucking jungle.

“Do you even know where we need to go?” she asks for the umpteenth time, out of breath behind Lucy.

“No, but we’re close to the castle walls now, and Vero said there was a cool rock to just sit and chill somewhere under them,” Lucy patiently explains, hands on hips and staring ahead at her trail options. “We just need to go off-path around the castle until we find it.”

“A cool rock to sit and chill,” Camila mock-repeats under her breath. “I swear to God, if this isn’t the coolest rock I’ve ever seen, you’re sleeping on the couch tonight.”

“Grumpy hungry isn’t a good look on you, Cami.”

“Crazy trailblazer isn’t your best look either, Lucy,” she counters matter-of-factly. “Can I at least get a sandwich from my backpack and eat on the way?”

“My answer to anyone else in the world would be yes, but I’m afraid you’ll fall to your death if you can’t use your hands to help your balance,” Lucy says in a very reasonable tone, finally choosing one of the tracks. “So in this case I will ask you to please be patient and give me a few extra minutes. I have a feeling we’re almost there.”

Camila saves her energy for walking instead of replying, and daydreams of pizza and bananas as she mindlessly follows after Lucy and swats flying bugs away. It’s apparently never too late to find out that nature tourism isn’t your thing.

“Okay, I think we’re here.”

Camila doesn’t even bother seeing what’s up, she just walks past Lucy and sits on the admittedly very flat, surprisingly clean rock, pulling her tuna sandwich out and unwrapping it.

“Whoa,” Lucy breathes out, coming to a still next to her.

“Hum?” Camila asks, mouth full of bread. When Lucy doesn’t reply, she turns to see what she’s doing and to be fair, she honestly doesn’t know if she’s ever sat at a place on the ground that allowed her to contemplate, well, so much other ground. Placing her sandwich back in her bag, she stands up and pulls Lucy to the edge carefully. “Okay, fine, you win. This is the coolest rock I’ve ever seen.”

Lucy chuckles, eyes lost in the horizon. “We can even see that red bridge from Lisbon, look over there!”

Camila squints in the direction of Lucy’s finger and indeed, there is the bridge and that weird Christ statue that reminds her of Brazil. She can’t even say the landscape is particularly impressive: there’s a few agricultural fields, a few agglomerations of tall buildings, a few hills. What is getting to her the most in this case is that it feels like she can see miles and miles of land, and the only reason she can’t see more, is because her eyes aren’t physically able to.

“I think there’s some sort of sea on this side, check it out,” she tells Lucy. “What even is this place?”

“The coolest rock ever,” Lucy throws back, lifting one brow provocatively. “And ah! We have enough space to lie down and take a nap after lunch. In the sun _or_ the shade, princess, take your pick!” Her expression is so damn smug right now that Camila has to fight the urge to wipe it off with a kiss. “I love myself for finding this fucking rock, like, I’m so talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show-stopping–”

“I get it, I get it!” Camila interrupts, grabbing Lucy so they’re face to face. “God, you’re such a nerd, how do you even remember the exact order of that stupid meme?”

“I am a woman of many talents,” Lucy sing-songs, wiggling her eyebrows.

“You’re insufferable.”

“But you like it.”

Camila smiles, with her lips, her eyes, her whole body. “You know I do.” She seals her declaration with a gentle peck, followed by a nuzzle on Lucy’s neck.

“Not to ruin this romantic moment, but I just heard your stomach grumbling so we should probably have lunch now.”

Camila flushes a deep red and leaves Lucy cackling behind to go back to her sandwich.

Who cares about Lucy anyway, food is the one true love of her life.

 

*

 

They stay there for almost three hours. Lucy keeps bragging about it and Camila is reluctant to give her credit when she’s being a brat on purpose, but this actually is one of the best hang out spots she’s ever been to. Every time Lucy cracks a joke about “the coolest rock ever”, Camila looks around and is kind of amazed that, by some miracle of nature, there’s a somewhat roundish in shape, flat-surfaced rock both jutting out a mountain _and_ half hidden by forest trees.

Life really is a neverending row of twists and turns beyond her imagination and expectations.

Like the two young women in lust they are, their bantering turns to sex. Playful, as it has been their mood the entire day, a sort of competition to find out who can make the other come first. Camila wins – she swears Lucy is only so into topping because she’s embarrassed by how fast she comes when stimulated.

They talk and laugh about silly things, just enjoying each other’s company, and engage in a photoshoot session with Lucy’s iPhone. Between selfies and stupid poses, they must take over 100 photos and only quit it when the battery dies, much to Lucy’s disappointment. Camila takes the opportunity to convince her to go back so they can explore the town for a couple of hours before they have to leave.

“Come over here, Cami,” Lucy calls, taking a seat with her legs dangling over the edge. It makes Camila shiver in terror, so she sits behind her instead of beside her, legs on each side, and wraps her arms around Lucy’s waist, chin settling on her shoulder. “Let’s just take a moment to enjoy this, because I don’t think we’ll ever be able to come here again even if we wanted to.”

Camila kisses the spot under her ear and squeezes her, pulls her closer so every single part of her front is touching Lucy’s back, and allows herself to merge into this moment, with the world ahead and her girlfriend in her arms.

She fishes her phone out of her pocket when Lucy becomes a bit restless, fingers tapping on Camila’s leg, and takes a selfie for prosperity.

She never wants to forget the day she’s started to accept that love doesn’t have to be the hopelessly romantic illusion she’d grown to fear it was.

 

Much later, when Lucy is already asleep sprawled out in the hotel bed, Camila goes through all the photos they’d taken and chooses one where she’s laughing by the edge of their rock, the landscape blurry in its immensity. It’s not her most flattering picture, but her legs seem to last for days and all she’s wearing in it is Lucy’s baggy long top. There’s nothing artificial or forced about her laughter there, Lucy had simply cracked a joke while instructing her to pose and then snapped a picture when she wasn’t ready.

It’s cute, unpretentious and somehow representative of everything she’d felt since Lucy arrived in Portugal.

She posts it to Instagram with the caption _‘and in that moment, i swear we were infinite’_ and turns her phone off, melting when Lucy purrs as Camila takes her rightful spot behind her as the big spoon.

(they switch, but Camila prefers to sleep like this.

Lucy does too, even if she would never admit it out loud.)

 

 

**xxi.**

They sleep in the next day. All they want to do is explore downtown Lisbon and the hotel is close enough so no need for the zealousness of the previous mornings. Lucy wakes up first and proceeds to take Camila from her slumber by nibbling on her ear and sliding her hand down to probe Camila’s clit.

It’s barely 10 AM and Camila is already having an orgasm.

Sleepily, sloppily, she pushes Lucy down to the mattress and buries her face in her pussy until Lucy pulls her hair so hard it hurts.

“No more?” Camila asks in faux-innocence, biting the tip of her thumb as her other hand teases Lucy’s entrance.

“I _can’t_.”

“Oh?” Camila moves back and gets up, pulls her thong down and stands in all her naked glory. “I’m gonna go take a shower then. Maybe you can recover in time to join me.”

Lucy grunts and whines and stumbles, but she’s in the bathtub with Camila before the water is even on.

 

*

 

They take forever to get ready, dressed in unappealing clothes and faces half disguised behind snapbacks and oversized sunglasses. Bruce and a local guide – a charming gay man called Pedro – are scheduled to accompany them throughout the day, which makes Camila feel a little guilty.

“I have planned a route through less crowded and touristic areas as was requested, but is there anything specific you’d like to see?” Pedro asks as they set foot outside the hotel. He’s not wearing a uniform or a nametag, so the four of them come across as more of a heterogeneous group of friends than the celebrity entourage they actually are. “Depending on where it is, it could be a good starting point.”

“There’s this church I’ve read about,” Lucy says, moving so she’s walking next to him. “Something about an earthquake that broke down the ceiling but everything else remained intact? I really wanna see that.”

“Ah, o Convento do Carmo, claro que sim!” He claps his hands in excitement and Lucy and Camila exchange an amused look. “That is super touristy though, so let’s begin there ‘cause Lisbon is always less busy in the mornings.”

The day’s tone is different from the previous ones, but Camila finds herself enjoying it anyway. Pedro is excellent at his job and, other than showing them the less known corners of the old city, he keeps bringing them to small, local restaurants and cafés to have them tasting traditional Portuguese snacks; not to mention he makes jokes about history, politics and architecture as if those weren’t serious subjects.

They’re approached by fans four different times and Lucy makes a point of slipping away as discreetly as possible in each and every one, waiting for Bruce to come and get her when Camila is done.

All things considered, it’s quite the miracle no one cares enough to try and identify Lucy and they prefer to keep it that way.

The longer they can put off having to handle a relationship in the public eye, the better.

 

*

 

“Why exactly am I sitting down for dinner at 7 PM? The sun’s still shining, we should be outside.”

Camila rolls her eyes and points at the free booth that has a handmade ‘reserved’ sign on it. Bruce takes a stool by the counter to let them have their privacy.

“Lucía Vives, I have trekked through mountains for you, so now you will shut it and have dinner with me without complaining.” Lucy harrumphs, but Camila ignores her. “This is the latest they’d take a reservation for as apparently they start getting packed around this time.”

“¿Pero por qué tenemos que cenar aquí?” Lucy insists, sliding down to the end of the bench. “If our day was any indication, Lisbon has more than enough restaurants to keep us fed until midnight.”

“This is a fado house – and before you say anything, I’ve been investigating the best place to listen to fado live ever since you got here. Pedro told me this was my best bet after I narrowed down the options and asked for his opinion in the emails we exchanged.” Camila takes a seat next to Lucy and starts browsing the single-page menu. “This is all in Portuguese. Do you think this is their word for chorizo?” she asks, pointing at it.

Lucy leans in to study the yellowed piece of paper. “I don’t think they serve meals, just snacks? And if that isn’t the Portuguese version of chorizo asado, I’ll be forced to return my Spanish-speaker card.”

“Okay, we’ll order that and their best red wine and see what else we feel like having later.”

“Ask for some bread too.”

Camila calls the waiter, a chubby middle-aged man with a mustache sprinkled in grey, and manages to place their order with minimal issues. He understands her when she speaks Spanish and English, but sticks to Portuguese with a wide smile and lots of gestures.

“The sun is shining outside, _but_ this place is really cool,” Lucy concedes when the waiter leaves them to go tend to another table.

Camila takes a moment to analyze it for the first time, following Lucy’s words. The ceiling isn’t too high and it’s made lower by the scarves of innumerous local and international soccer teams hanging horizontally. The lamps offer a weak, yellowish light and the tiles on the floor are the oldest and ugliest she’s ever seen – they appear impossible to clean too. The tables, benches and chairs are of solid yet cheap-looking wood. There’s maybe enough space for twenty or thirty people to sit down, and the walls are covered with old photos and posters of singers. The stage isn’t a stage per se, more a small oval area with a single chair on the side right in front of their booth.

It looks unkempt, in a loving, familiar kind of way, and Camila isn’t surprised Lucy finds it cool.

She isn’t sure what to say so she leaves a gentle kiss on Lucy’s naked shoulder. “Wait until the music starts.”

 

*

 

When Camila had been denied a reservation, she couldn’t imagine this is what the person on the phone had meant by ‘packed’. There’s a ridiculous amount of people standing, all with rudimentary wine glasses in hand, and there are now four strangers sitting at their table, three women and a man, all Portuguese in their late twenties. The six of them are managing a healthy level of communication between Portuguese, Spanish and English as the alcohol in their blood rises above acceptable levels and their inhibitions lower together with their sobriety.

Everything is a little different than Camila had expected. She knew they would see amateur fado singers live, yes, but she thought they were pre-booked and that they’d see two, maybe three different singers in an evening. Instead, there’s only one pre-booked singer and afterwards the stage is open for whoever wants to give it a try. As it turns out, after a few glasses of wine, it doesn’t take much courage for people to come forward.

The guitar player remains seated on his chair the whole time, with his funny-looking guitar that Mariana had told Lucy is called a Portuguese guitar.

It’s definitely an experience. For a couple of hours, they are part of a new, temporary family, one where everyone claps and cheers no matter how terrible the singer is. Mariana and André are kind enough to supply them the general meaning of the songs when they fail to grasp it.

At this point, they don’t even know anymore who ordered what, they’re just sharing everything on the table while listening to Filipa’s long-winded explanations about traditional Portuguese food and the different wines that have been served.

“Epah caralho, calem-se lá que ele ‘tá a tocar os acordes da Primavera,” Rita, the quietest of the four Portuguese, whisper-shouts at one point.

Camila furrows her brows, disoriented, and Lucy brings a finger to her lips to shush her.

And that’s when the night changes.

The moment the woman on stage starts singing, Camila’s heart drops to the floor. Her timbre is so rich and her entire demeanor is so emotional that the noise of chatter in the room dies down and is replaced by complete silence and full, body-turning attention.

The woman has her eyes closed and the black and red shawl around her shoulders seems to be held in place by pure witchcraft.

The song builds up slowly and so does the feeling reverberating through Camila’s body. She recognizes the word ‘amor’ and by the way the singer is clawing at her chest and her chin is turned upwards, she just _knows_ it’s a song about lost love.

She understands almost nothing of what is being sung, but the language of lost love is universal.

When the guitarist pauses to let the woman shine as she reaches the high note, Camila’s skin becomes goosebumps and her breath hitches in her throat. And when the woman sings the high note flawlessly, one arm going up as if to accompany everything she has inside and is trying to express, Camila feels her eyes fill up with tears that she lets fall, drunk on alcohol and emotion.

Music is the art that gives meaning to her life.

 

*

 

She holds Lucy’s hand as she exits the fado house. She doesn’t know where she’s going, she just needs to get to the highest spot possible and thus every single street that goes up is the street she takes.

Bruce is a few feet behind them, but Camila doesn’t have the energy to consider him at the moment. Lucy is quiet next to her and that is probably for the best too.

She halts when she finds the tiniest of gardens, a few trees and a bench facing a short wall that offers a reasonable view to the city. More importantly, no one is around.

Lisbon at night has an orange tinge and a golden hue, the sky dark without stars, and all of it is more than Camila can handle right now.

“I feel like our bodies are a dam, or some sort of barrier, and most of the time they just keep everything in with very few leaks,” she breathes out, looking from the rooftops of Lisbon to Lucy, who has that cute frown of confusion Camila adores on her face. “But there are things that make you feel so much, your body can’t hold it in anymore. For me, that thing is music.”

Lucy’s eyes widen in comprehension and she takes a step closer.

“Not always, not all music, but every now and then a song comes on and there’s this drumming in my chest. It builds up and up, it buzzes in my veins and it pounds against all my walls until it overflows and becomes physical, something you can see and touch from the outside.

“I’m sorry, sometimes it takes me some time to find the words I need.” She places a stubborn strand of hair behind Lucy’s ear. “I didn’t plan this or anything. I took you to that place because I wanted to share music with you since you’ve been sharing so much with me, you know? And then that song happened and somehow it made it clearer _why_ I wanted to share music with you.” She takes a deep breath and feels her eyes sting with tears again. “Te quiero como quiero a las canciones que me hacen llorar.”

The world stops the instant the words are out.

She feels the blood rushing in her ears and the thud of her heart is so mighty it’s deafening, swallowing everything else.

Then Lucy’s lips curl up. They stretch until her whole face is a smile, a beautiful, hopeful, joyful smile that Camila believes could fit an entire galaxy. She brings Camila’s hand, the one she hadn’t stopped holding, to rest at the center of her chest, each fingertip an electric current.

Lucy’s skin is soft and warm, and her heart is beating fast but steadily, so strong Camila feels it as if it were her own.

“¿Lo sientes, cariño?” Camila nods. “Thank you for letting my head know what my heart already feels.”

Camila kisses her then, hands lost in hair, bodies flushed together, happy tears streaming down her face.

She really wishes she had words worthy enough of the love running wildly inside of her.

For now, kissing Lucy will have to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i apologise for how self-serving this chapter is, considering the portugueseness of my queer ass, but i made it this way to fit the 'te quiero como quiero a las canciones que me hacen llorar' line that occurred to me long before Portugal had a part in this story.


	6. xxii-xxv

**xxii.**

Camila shakes her leg impatiently, sitting in her mom’s car while they’re waiting for Lucy at Miami airport’s parking area. She’s been home from the final part of her tour for four days and now she’ll get to spend the weekend with Lucy before she heads off to L.A. to start working on her next album.

“Why don’t you invite Lucy to stay at our house?”

Camila side-eyes her mother, not quite willing to get into a discussion about how she wants to _not_ have to muffle her moans while Lucy is making her come. Instead, she says:

“I haven’t even introduced her as my girlfriend to dad and Sofi, mami. Sofi probably doesn’t even remember her. It’s quite a big jump to go from that to a sleepover.”

“What’s taking you so long anyway?” Sinu asks, with an annoyed huff. “Yo hablo con esa nena por teléfono todas las semanas y tu padre y tu hermana siguen sin saber quién es tu novia.”

“This is important, mami. I never brought anyone home.” Camila sighs, looking down at her phone to read Lucy’s text informing her that the plane had just landed. She replies with the instructions to reach their parking spot. “At first I wanted to be sure that Lucy and I were the real deal and now it’s just... ¿Y si a papi y Sofi no les gusta Lucy?”

“Cami, you are so in love–“

“I am not!”

“–that your eyes sparkle like stars and your smile is even brighter than usual. Claro que a papi y a Sofi les va a gustar la persona que te hace tan feliz.”

“But what if they don’t?”

“Mija, por dios, do _I_ like Lucy?”

“I... think so?” Camila replies, too tentative and awkward about it. “You do, right?”

“Camila, what exactly have I done wrong in my life that I’m somehow giving the impression that I _don’t_ like Lucy?” Sinu asks, not even trying to pretend she isn’t exhausted from the conversation. “¿Qué parte de hablo con la nena por teléfono todas las semanas no entendiste tú? She calls me at least once a week to check up on me _and_ you. She’s wonderful and it’s obvious she’s crazy about you, of course I like her!”

“Fine, what if _she_ doesn’t like them then? I can’t handle that!”

“Mira que no sabía que las telenovelas te habían vuelto así tan dramática,” Sinu comments, with a dramatic eye-roll of her own. “How about we handle that if it comes to it and for now we just… introduce them to each other?”

Camila doesn’t get a chance to reply because Lucy is knocking on her window and opening the door to hold the upper part of her body in a not-so-comfortable hug. They don’t kiss, not with Sinu right there, but Camila is dying to.

The drive to Carlos Vives’ empty apartment is filled with Spanglish chatter between Lucy and Sinu and all Camila does is watch and listen with an endeared smile, hand reaching for the backseat so she can hold Lucy’s the entire time.

 

*

 

They barely make it inside the apartment before they’re devouring each other like they hadn’t been together for years. They don’t even get to the bedroom, they fuck right there on the living room table, desperate and hungry and needy.

When they’re done, naked and sweaty and panting as if they’d just run a marathon, Lucy picks Camila up and falls on top of her on the couch.

“Cami, we need to talk.”

“I’m naked.”

“Yes, and?”

“You’re naked.”

“Yes, and?”

“I can’t focus when your boobies are out, I’m sorry.”

“This blatant objectification! The disrespect! The audacity…” Lucy mocks, getting up to grab their clothes that lie scattered on the floor. She puts Camila’s t-shirt on and throws her top at her girlfriend. “Can we talk now?”

“Of course, babe,” Camila says, tongue-in-cheek. “What’s gotten you all urgent and official?”

“You are the actual _worst_.” Lucy lifts Camila’s legs from the cushions and takes a seat, draping them across her lap. “I’m gonna write a statement and expose you to your fans: _I have been informed via her representatives that Camila is the actual worst_.”

Camila snorts. “They’d never believe you.”

“Don’t test me, Karla Camila!” She slaps Camila’s knee playfully. “Okay, I really need to tell you something and, uh, I’m a bit nervous so just, bear with me, yeah?”

“Oh wait, this is serious?” Camila puts on the top and sits up, leaving her legs where they are. “I’m sorry, love, I didn’t realize. I’m here.”

“I know you are,” Lucy whispers, kissing her. “Don’t worry, this is a good thing. Or I hope it is? I did it with the best intentions.” She takes a deep breath and squeezes Camila’s legs for strength. “When things started getting serious between us, I got, well, it scared me. Dating a pop star isn’t exactly news to me and I wasn’t sure if I was ready to go through all that again, the possessive fans and the irregular schedules. Most importantly, I didn’t know if I was ready to have to deal with the distance again.”

“Lucy, I–“

“So I started looking for solutions to avoid it and, according to my research, while you spend half of your time literally everywhere, the other half is split between Miami and L.A.”

“Wow, stalker much, Ms. Vives?” Camila teases. “You could’ve just asked me, you know?”

“And I did, but I also investigated other sources as the good academic I am.” She grins, clearly proud of herself. “Thing is, I was gonna start my masters in New Orleans, everything was already arranged, and then you came into the picture.”

“Lucy, what are you saying?”

“So I checked for equivalent graduate programs in both Miami and L.A. colleges and decided to apply for a transfer to UCLA.” Camila gasps, but Lucy proceeds, undeterred, “Miami would be ideal. My dad is here often, I have lots of friends in town, your family is here too, but I can’t just think about you, I have to consider me and my dreams as well. UCLA was the best of both worlds: it’s one of the best universities in the country, their Gender Studies program is _amazing_ and you’re in L.A. enough to make the transfer worth it.

“I didn’t say anything before, because… To be honest, I kept this quiet for several reasons: one, I didn’t want to scare you by seeming too eager to be around you.” She scrunches up her nose in self-deprecation and Camila melts. “Two, I wasn’t sure if I would make it, so I didn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up only to disappoint later.”

“Not to be dramatic, but my anxiety levels are rising. Is there a point to you telling me this now?”

“If your impatient highness lets me finish, we’ll be right at the point, asshole,” Lucy says, poking her on the ribs. “ _Anyways_ , I asked for a bunch of letters of recommendation, I wrote the literal best statement of purpose in the world, and – remember that essay I was writing when we were together in PR? – I sent all that as part of the application process. I wrote ten thousand words about the shortcomings of white feminism to impress them UCLA motherfuckers.”

Camila blinks at Lucy and Lucy’s smile gets progressively wider, crooked and joyful and Camila’s absolute favorite.

“And I got in! Cami, I got in!” Lucy somehow does a little jump even while seated on the couch. “My classes start in three weeks and I’ve known since the beginning of September but I wanted to tell you in person so I had to wait until you came back from touring.”

Camila opens and closes her mouth like a fish for an inordinate period of time, and then, “Oh my God, Lucy, you’re moving to L.A.?!”

“Yes!”

“You’re moving to L.A.!”

“I know!”

She shifts so she’s straddling Lucy and leaves kisses all over her face. “And you got into UCLA! I am dating a feminist nerd, I can’t believe!” She holds Lucy’s face with both hands, trying to put all the emotions coursing through her in her eyes. “I’m so proud of you, corazón.”

“Gracias, cariño, that means the world,” Lucy breathes out, in between pecks. “For the record, this isn’t that classic lesbian U-Haul move, okay? I just wanted us to be in the same city as often as possible to make our lives easier. Plus, I know lots of people in L.A. because I have shoots there all the time.”

“I know, baby, and I’m so fucking happy,” Camila says, laughing with the curve of her lips and the air in her lungs. “Thank you so much for doing this for me, for _us_. God, you’re so unbelievably perfect, I lo–” She catches herself, and draws Lucy in for a searing kiss instead. “Te quiero, te quiero, te quiero, no me dejes nunca.”

“I don’t plan to, dummy. We should celebrate!”

Camila takes a good long look at her. “I say today we order in some food and wine and then we fuck until we pass out. But how about we go to my house for lunch tomorrow? My mom makes a mean medianoche.” She chuckles, amused at herself. “Which now that I’ve said this out loud sounds like a dinner invitation rather than a lunch one, but yeah.”

Lucy widens her eyes, her head jerking back in surprise. “For real?”

“Yes, I mean, if you’re okay with that?” She blushes and starts fiddling with the hem of Lucy’s top. “I guess it’s a stupid idea. Not exactly celebration material.”

There’s a moment of heavy silence and then Lucy sneaks her arms around Camila’s waist and holds her tight. “I would love to meet your family, Cami. I’ve heard so much about your sister and your dad, it’s like I’ve known them for years.”

Camila wraps her arms around Lucy’s neck and kisses the side of her head. “What did I ever do to deserve you?”

“Voodoo, probably,” Lucy jokes. “Fuck, what should I wear? I’m not sure I have the appropriate mix of formal and casual to meet the parents.”

“Let’s worry about that tomorrow, corazón,” Camila whispers, licking the shell of Lucy’s ear. “Today’s celebration is sex and wine and you, my dear, deserve a treat.”

 

*

 

Camila has to control her laughter with how Lucy is going through her closet in despair, trying on six different outfits before settling on a black knee-length skirt and a loose plain beige t-shirt with a wide collar. She finds the whole thing charming because she’d never seen her girlfriend fussing this much over anything.

Lucy is usually the cool, collected one – regardless of what she’s feeling inside, and now she seems younger than her years, worrying at her bottom lip and chipping at the black polish on her fingernails.

“For what is worth, mami is the boss of the family,” Camila tells her when they reach the front porch of the Cabellos. “And you already have that covered.”

Lucy nods and takes a deep breath, eyes not leaving the peephole as Camila chooses to ring the bell instead of using her keys.

It’s Sofi who opens the door. “Kaki!” She tackles her sister, head burying in her chest. “¡Mami hizo brownies para el postre!”

“She did, huh?” Lucy asks, exchanging a look with Camila. “How in touch with the theme of the day.”

“And you’re Lucy, yes?” Sofi says, tilting her head to the side in scrutiny. “I remember seeing you, I just don’t know where.”

“That would be me, yes.” Lucy shifts on her feet, nervous despite herself. “I was around a lot during Camila’s Fifth Harmony days. Lauren is one of my best friends.”

Sofi frowns and arches one eyebrow at her. “Kaki kept you a secret for a long time. It made me sad because we tell each other everything.”

“Sofi,” Camila intervenes, in a warning tone.

“I’m sure she had her reasons,” Lucy says with a soft smile, “and I’m sorry that hurt you.”

“Do you love her?”

“I–“

“Sofi, if we are together, it’s because we like each other,” Camila interrupts, holding Lucy’s hand at last. Her heart warms when she feels Lucy squeeze her fingers and release a short sigh of relief.

“Fine,” the girl says, with a roll of her eyes. “Can you guys at least let me spend time with you now?” She points an accusing finger at Lucy, “Having to split Kaki with you is not doing you any favors. I want more Kaki time, not less.”

Lucy gulps and Camila snorts.

“That sounds like a great idea, Sof,” she says, pulling Lucy inside and closing the door. To her girlfriend, she whispers, “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, baby. Take all the time you need.”

“You know what?” Lucy starts in reply to both Cabello sisters. “I was thinking of going to Little Havana tomorrow morning. You ladies want to join me? Have ourselves a get-together before Cami is off to L.A.?”

Camila feels the familiar Lucy warmth spread all over her chest at the same time that Sofi goes ‘yay!’ and they walk together towards the living room. Lucy’s hand is still in hers and if someone had told her a year ago that holding someone’s hand came with such a huge sense of belonging, she probably would’ve doubted it.

 

*

 

The lunch goes better than Camila had expected. Not that she knew what exactly she expected. Her dad to be a little difficult and protective, maybe. Or her mom to tease Lucy and make her blush in front of the whole family – that sort of Sinu attention had been turned to her instead. Sofi had actually been the hardest to please and Camila can’t even blame her. In retrospect, she had indeed neglected her sister for the sake of spending time with Lucy.

It’s a balance she will have to learn to manage better.

Lucy is helpful and polite and she uses more than her fair share of patience indulging Alejandro in his fangirl-like obsession with Carlos Vives. Camila doesn’t even try to get her father not to embarrass himself, it makes her happy that they have something in common to keep the conversation going. They’re in the corner discussing the Cabellos’ collection of vinyls and CDs, and Camila believes it safe to leave them there to go to the kitchen to help her mom. Sofi follows after her, but she just sits on a stool and keeps playing her Nintendo DS.

“Déjame secar los platos.”

Sinu passes her a cloth with a knowing smile. “So what was it? Are we finally worthy of meeting Lucy or is Lucy finally worthy of meeting us?”

Camila bites her lip, her cheeks turning a delicate pink. “She’s just… She really, really wants to be with me, she really wants us to work.”

Sinu mumbles something that sounds dangerously close to ‘no shit, Sherlock’ but Camila refuses to accept it as truth. Her mom would _never_.

“She asked for a transfer to UCLA so she can be closer to me, mami. She went through that trouble for _me_.”

“Espera, espera. You’re moving in together?!”

“What? Mami, no!” Camila interjects, dropping the fork she was drying to the floor. “Not like that! We’ll just be in the same city while I’m working on the new album!”

“Ay por Dios, mija, no me hagas eso otra vez,” Sinu says, hand on her chest. “Las amo a las dos, pero vamos con calma, ¿eh?”

“It’s just better if we’re both in the same city, you know?” Camila chuckles, unsure what to feel about her mother’s reaction. “We can be together more often and we don’t have to be flying all the time to see each other. Like, I didn’t even think of a way around it, I was just willing to do whatever it takes to be with Lucy? I was content with occasional visits and daily phone calls as long as we were committed to each other. But she went and did this, she went and made it easier and nicer and so much simpler.” Placing the glass she’d just finished drying inside the cupboard, Camila smiles, smitten and swooning. “She is so _good_ , mami. I don’t know how I got to be this lucky.”

“Me siento tan feliz que finalmente estés vendo lo que es el amor bueno.” Sinu moves to give her a hug and Camila fits like a puzzle piece in all the spaces of her mother’s body. “You deserve this too. Love doesn’t have to hurt all the time to be real and meaningful and true.”

“It took me too long to understand that,” Camila says into the crook of her mother’s neck. “And I should’ve known better, te tuve a ti y a papi como ejemplos toda la vida.”

“Más vale tarde que nunca,” Sofi quips, suddenly standing next to them with her arms crossed. Pre-adolescence is a horrible time in a person’s life. “And wow, Kaki, I knew you were lame, but this is on a whole new level.”

“Oh, shut it, you.” Camila pulls her sister into the family hug. “I’m sorry I haven’t been as present the last few months. I’ll make it up to you.”

“I want an iPad for Christmas, by the way.”

Sinu laughs and Camila smacks the back of her sister’s head before squeezing her closer.

 

*

 

Camila wasn’t supposed to stay at Lucy’s another night, but since making morning plans with her sister had cut them some slack, she’s now lying on her back, half-naked and spent, with Lucy curled under her left arm.

She’s halfway gone to the world of sleep when she feels more than she hears Lucy whisper into her ribcage, “Your family is so loving.”

She stirs, arm adjusting so she can caress Lucy’s back. It’s one of the few things about Lucy that annoys her a little, this habit of starting important conversations in the dark, when Camila is craving oblivion more than she craves the emotional well-being of them both.

“I’m so happy they loved you,” she yawns out, drawing circles on Lucy’s spine. “I’m sorry it took me so long to take this step.”

“Well, you still haven’t met my dad.”

“Your mom and grandma were nice.”

“My nana was,” Lucy corrects, kissing the side of her breast. “My mom was just passive-aggressively polite.”

“You two fight a lot?”

“No,” Lucy replies, too fast. “Yes. I love her, she just… She has a hard time accepting me for who I am.”

“You mean because of your sexuality?”

“And because of my activism, my feminism, my modelling career, everything really. I’m just not what she expected of her daughter. I’m not quiet or calm or smiling in the face of bullshit.”

Camila brings Lucy even closer, relishing in her presence and warmth. “Families are complicated,” she says into Lucy’s hair, legs shifting to tangle with hers. “Sometimes they hurt us without even realizing.”

“I wish it didn’t hurt me like this. It shouldn’t.” Lucy nuzzles her shoulder and Camila pretends she doesn’t feel the wetness the movement causes on her skin. “But it does, Cami. I can’t run from my family, they’re hiding inside me.” She swallows, and Camila waits, lips pressed to Lucy’s hair. “The things you are born into impregnate the crevices of your soul and the lines of your heart in ways nothing else can do.”

Camila searches for the words she could say in response to that, words to make it all better, words to make sense of it and overcome it, but she isn’t sure such words exist. She doesn’t know if she can truly grasp what Lucy is trying to say. It is hard, after all, to make people see what they cannot feel.

Falling for Lucy is also, against all her expectations, an exercise in realizing she is not as skilled in words as she’d always believed she was.

Holding Lucy’s hand that had found its way onto her stomach and entwining their fingers, she settles for, “You are the bravest woman I’ve ever met. I mean, you were brave enough to kiss _me_ at some high-end party and we both know the heavy shared luggage we carry.”

Lucy chuckles and looks up, her eyes brimming with unshed tears that the outside lights allow Camila to see.

“Te quiero por tu sexualidad, te quiero por tu feminismo, te quiero por tu activismo,” Camila continues, amidst an eskimo kiss. “Te quiero por todo lo que los media latinos llaman de rebeldía y que para mí no más es que tú toda, tú entera y fascinante y preciosa.” Lucy hides her face in Camila’s chest and whimpers, the sound of it vibrating through her heartstrings. “I’m not your family, but I want to be here for you, for every time they don’t know how to be.” Impossibly, miraculously, she manages to hold Lucy tighter in her arms. “I won’t always understand because I’m lucky and my mom and dad embrace me as I am, but I will be here.”

“You are, you know?” Lucy tells her, leaving soft pecks on the extent of her exposed neck. “Lucky to have their support for everything. I am grateful for my privilege and for everything my family’s done for me – especially my brother and my nana. It’s just complicated with my mom, and my dad too. I was reminded of that today, is all.”

“Do you want me to go meet Sofi alone? Is it too much, too soon?”

Lucy shakes her head, ruffling Camila’s hair in the process. “No, baby. I loved spending time with your family. It just made me think about my mom and that’s always painful to me. It’s not your fault.” She yawns, cuddling to Camila’s side and tucking them both under the sheet. “Can we sleep now?”

Camila rolls her eyes. Typical Lucy, getting her all worked up with emotionally draining topics only to fall asleep and leave Camila’s mind running at high speed.

She can’t help wondering how much Lucy is keeping inside her, how much she doesn’t express not to worry her or because she simply can’t. Her thoughts swirl around the history of their relationship, their insignificant lovers’ squabbles, the secrets they’ve shared. She tries to pick apart everything Lucy’s ever told her and find hints of past pains she could have overlooked. She ponders over the amount of effort Lucy puts into their relationship and how maybe what Camila has to offer doesn’t quite compare.

“I’m also very lucky to have _you_ ,” she murmurs into the silent room eventually. “I thought you should know that.”

 

 

**xxiii.**

Camila is always excited when she’s in L.A. for the city symbolizes music to her. It’s where some of her best material’s been produced, it’s where she gets to spend hours in studios, working together with people she admires and respects in search of the best possible result.

This time, when she lands at LAX, she’s smiling a million-watt smile, her whole body shaking in anticipation of what’s ahead of her: the creative process of making her new album and the chance to live a somewhat normal life with her girlfriend.

(her girlfriend! ridiculous as it sounds, she still can’t believe it.)

Lucy is only coming in two weeks. Her classes start mid-October and she wants to spend time with her family in Mayagüez and her friends in New Orleans before her move. Camila doesn’t mind. That way she has time to plan a date night to welcome Lucy to L.A. like the queen she is.

In the meanwhile, she’ll waive any semblance of a social life and spend all her time in studios. In fact, she goes straight to Epic’s studio from the airport, MacBook and lyrics notebook in her backpack and a grumpy mother on her tail.

Everyone is happy to see her and she spends a good half hour catching up and engaging in small talk.

“Camila, darling,” Frank greets when she enters the actual studio room. Sinu is behind her but she crashes on one of the couches in the corner in a rather unladylike manner that makes Camila snicker.

She humors him with a short hug, eyes twinkling with exhilaration. “I’m so happy to be back! Did you check the stuff I sent you?”

“I did, yes.” His lack of further comment curbs her enthusiasm, if only for a minute. “So you are in love. Who’s the lucky guy?”

Camila swallows, butterflies fluttering in her stomach – of the bad kind. “It’s not a guy,” she admits, her voice less firm than she’d like.

Frank blinks, blue gaze studying her carefully. “Oh, I see. Back to that then?”

“I’m not back to anything,” she half-snaps, trying not to feel insulted by his choice of words. “I love who I love and it just happens to be a girl this time.”

“Who is she?”

“With all due respect, Frank, that’s my personal life and who she is or isn’t shouldn’t matter to my work.”

“I agree,” he concedes, sitting on the swivel chair in front of the line of screens, all alight with music production programs, “but happy love doesn’t sell albums.”

Camila gapes at him, reaction so visceral she doesn’t have time to realize if she’s hurt or offended, and it takes her a moment to find a reply.

“Love is love,” she grits out at last. “It doesn’t matter if it’s sad or happy, hopeful or devastating. It’s _love_.” She takes a deep breath and pulls out her notebook, flipping through the scribbled pages where she’d written down lyrics as her relationship with Lucy progressed. “If you feel it and put it in your music and give it your all, life will run its course.”

Frank nods gravelly. “Okay then. Let’s see what we got.”

Camila’s hands are shaking and so she hides them from Frank’s view. She’s never been fond of confrontation – she will do it, she just won’t enjoy it –, but if this first meeting is any indication, she’ll have to fight every step of the way for the vision of what her second album should be.

 

 

**xxix.**

“Cami, we should do something fun for Halloween,” Lucy announces as they’re walking towards her studio apartment in Westwood after dinner.

Camila hums, gaze focused on the cars passing by. “Do we trust anyone in L.A. enough to go to their party together? The 31st is on a Wednesday, so we can’t go to Miami. You’d miss your classes.”

“Oh wow, _that’s_ what you’re worried about?”

“Lucy,” Camila says in a sigh, linking their arms.  “All the people that matter to me know about us. I don’t believe in living a secret life – c’mon, you know me better than that.”

Lucy deflates, mumbling an apology that makes Camila smile.

“I can check if Taylor will host a Halloween party in L.A. this year, she tends to rotate location and last year she did it in Nashville.”

“Taylor, as in Taylor Swift?” She frowns. “I believe I am ideologically opposed to what she stands for.”

“You don’t know her, Lucy.”

“Okay, fine, we can go to your superstar friend’s house for Halloween.” Lucy harrumphs and Camila shouldn’t, but she finds it adorable. “Can we discuss costumes though? That’s what I’m about.”

“Sure, babe. Did you have anything in mind?”

“Are we doing couple’s costumes?”

Camila hesitates, mulls over her ideas for a few moments. “I hate doing this, but I think we should probably establish some ground rules for Halloween.”

She’s being truthful. She hates having to be careful about what she does or doesn’t do with Lucy that could get to the public. She hates not knowing if her motivation is a love of privacy or a terror of being scrutinized. She hates that Lucy deserves to be free to do and be whatever she wants, and her overpowering need of keeping her public life separate from her personal life is tying Lucy down.

“So no couple’s costumes then?” Lucy asks with a pout.

“Oh no no,” Camila hurries to say, shaking her head. “We can do couple’s costumes, I’d love that! I’ve never done it! We just have to be careful with the pictures we take.”

“Perfect!” Lucy taps her fingers together in a hilarious imitation of a cartoonish villain. “You’re staying over tonight, I’ve prepared a PowerPoint of possibilities.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“You love it.”

 

*

 

“God, Cami, you look so hot with red hair,” Lucy breathes out, gawking at her so hard she trips on her own feet – which is unusual for her. That is more of a Camila standard. “If I were a guy, my boner would be visible all night.”

“Gross.”

“Maybe I should’ve brought my strap-on, you know the one with the tiny dildo that makes people look at my crotch and go ‘is that a dick or just her phone’?”

“Lucy!” Camila blushes furiously and elbows her to bring her back from fantasy-land. A driver had just dropped them outside Taylor’s Beverly Hills mansion and now they’re crossing the impressive yard towards the front door. “I told you, we are _not_ having sex at my friend’s house!”

“Do you think that Taylor’s the kind of person who would be shocked if a girl was parading around her party with a dick in her shorts?” Lucy asks, with a dreamy look on her face. “I bet she is.”

“You better behave.”

“Or what? You’ll punish me with those sexy whipping vines?” Lucy teases, approaching to speak into her neck in that way she knows sends shivers down Camila’s spine. “I can’t wait.”

Camila didn’t know she could get redder than she already was but judging by the heat she’s feeling on her cheeks, she’d been wrong about that. She decides ignoring Lucy’s taunting is her best course of action, so she starts walking faster and doesn’t even stop to fix her costume before she rings the bell.

“Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn!” the one and only Taylor Swift exclaims as she opens the door, with a southern drawl that tells Camila she’s had more than her fair share of red wine. “Wait, Camila?! Is that you?”

Camila just laughs and lets herself be wrapped in Taylor’s hold. She is kind of fond of how her friend makes a point of being the one welcoming the guests when she hosts a party.

“You must be Lucy, it’s so great to finally meet you!” She pulls her into a hug and Camila has to mouth ‘be nice’ when Lucy just side-eyes her, patting Taylor’s back awkwardly. “I’ve heard so much about you!”

“Nice to meet you, Taylor,” Lucy returns, with a not-so-genuine smile. Camila pinches her butt the moment Taylor turns around to go into the house. “Babe, if that’s your way of making me behave, I’m afraid it’ll work against you,” she whispers.

Camila just bites her shoulder in response.

 

 

It ends up being quite a long night for Camila, for both good and bad reasons. It goes something like this:

 

 

“So I should avoid pictures, yeah?”

“Yes, Lucy,” Camila says patiently, to an already tipsy Lucy. “People online are crazy and they get obsessed. They’d somehow figure out that whatever curtain you’re standing next to is the curtain in Taylor’s house – and _I_ am the one who is officially attending this party.”

“But I look so good as Harley Quinn!” Lucy pouts. “I wanna make Margot Robbie jealous.”

“We posted a pic of you on insta before we left home, baby,” Camila reminds her, playing with the pigtails framing her face. “Margot Robbie is already green with envy, I’m sure.”

“Can we take a selfie together though?” Lucy asks, with a childish grin that has Camila’s heart doing somersaults in her chest. “We look so cute and hot and sexy, I love us.”

“We can take all the selfies you want, corazón.” Camila kisses her chastely on the lips. “We can take pictures with our phones, it’s the other people I don’t trust.”

“Oh.” Lucy seems confused for a moment, and then drops her head on Camila’s shoulder. “Will you take pictures of me and us? I wanna remember tonight.”

Camila sneaks her arms around Lucy’s waist, fingers of one hand moving upwards to cradle her neck. “Yes, baby. I want to remember tonight too.”

 

 

“Taylor is super nice, but I’m still uncomfortable, Cami.”

Camila rolls her eyes. Next time she better be the one drinking more.

“We’ve been through this.”

“But like, does she know she’s like, the alt-right’s Aryan princess?” Lucy continues, staring at the – decidedly very white – guests of the party. “Is she okay with that?”

“I don’t know if she knows and you’re not going to ask her either.”

“Does she even support Black Lives Matter?” Lucy persists, so focused on analyzing the forty or so people present she’s missing Camila’s clear annoyance. “These are important friendship questions.”

“Lucy, just… Please stop, okay? She’s my friend and she’s done wonderful things for a lot of people.”

“White people?”

“Okay, this conversation is over,” Camila says, lifting both her hands with a shake of her head. “I’m gonna get a drink and a break from you for the next ten minutes.”

“But–“

Camila pushes past her, yelling ‘you’re on time out!’ over the music to keep Lucy from following her.

 

 

“You know, it makes me sad that you picked a costume with a tailcoat.”

“That’s just because you’re drunk and horny, babe,” Camila reminds her in an amused tone. “At home, you said you were happy that my ass was only yours to see for Halloween.”

“I did?”

Camila hums. She’s sitting on Lucy’s lap, fingers playing absentmindedly with the baby hairs on the nape of her girlfriend’s neck.

“¿Ya te dije que adoro tu culo?”

“Only twelve times tonight.” Camila beams and kisses Lucy’s temple. “Y yo adoro tus chichis.”

Lucy crinkles her nose, displeased with the use of the word. “Well, at least you didn’t say ‘tetas’. ‘Cause that would be a lie.”

They stare at each other for a moment, and then they both crack up.

 

 

“What do you mean they’re still playing _Despacito_ in this year of our Goddess 2018?” Lucy practically screams in her ear when the song comes on. “Who is controlling the music in this place?”

The model sharing the couch with them points towards an iPod connected to a sound system and Lucy pushes Camila out of her lap indelicately.

“If we have to put up with lame ass reggaeton from 2017, might as well play less dubious quality shit,” she says, typing furiously on her Spotify account. “Cami, we’re dancing.”

She doesn’t even ask, she just states it, and well, Camila is a little too turned on by her display of dominance to refuse anything she wants.

There’s a quick instant of protests from the people dancing in the temporary dance floor as the music stops, but everything goes back to normal when Lucy plugs in her phone.

“Sebastián Yatra? Really?”

“Shut up and dance,” Lucy orders in a sensual tone, pulling her up from her seat and flushing their bodies together.

It occurs to Camila then, that she’d never actually danced with Lucy. Not like this. Not hot, close and personal.

Lucy slides one hand down her back slowly, leaving it on the curve where her tailcoat starts, and entwines their legs. Camila keeps her arms down – she’s very conscious of how that particular kind of provocation, the one where she pretends not to want it as badly as she does, gets Lucy going.

 _“Lo que le gusta es que le cante al oído en la noche,”_ Lucy sings, breath warm in her ear, their bodies undulating to the rhythm of the song. She is a good lead, strong and firm, and Camila loses herself in her possessive grip.

When the rap comes along, Lucy places her hands on Camila’s hipbones and has them both rolling their hips against each other, their centers crashing and rubbing with the beat, and Camila feels a rush of heat pulsing through her that makes it hard to think. She rests her forehead against Lucy’s, teases her lips with the tip of her tongue, escapes whenever Lucy tries to steal a kiss.

Turning around, Camila lifts one arm so she can hold the back of Lucy’s head, and Lucy glues her ass to her front and moves like she’s fucking Camila from behind – indulgent and deliberate and unabashedly sexual.

It puts images in Camila’s head and she can’t stand that Lucy has this much power over her, she can’t believe that her touch electrifies every inch of her skin. It’s infuriating and unfair, so she shakes her ass to the rhythm, side to side, in circles and waves, pushes against Lucy until Lucy’s nails dig deep into her hipbones only to then drop and come back up in a languid motion.

If Lucy’s touch blinds her with lust, her sweet revenge is to overwhelm Lucy’s senses until she loses her mind.

“Cami,” Lucy growls, voice breathy with desire as _Sutra_ fades to its end around them, “if we don’t go home now, I’m gonna fuck you right here.”

 

 

It is the wildest sex they’ve ever had. Not that their sex life isn’t amazing, because it totally is. But Lucy is leaning towards the drunk side of the alcoholic scale, Camila is definitely tipsy, and they’re dressed up as DC supervillainesses.

They roleplay. They break character a lot, but they roleplay nonetheless. It gets a little rough – not too much, just enough – and Camila _likes_ it. Whips and handcuffs and vibrators are involved, as well as a lot of ‘bad girl’ jokes. Lucy has at least three different meltdowns over Camila’s deep red wig and Camila sits on her face to shut her up when she seems like she’ll have a fourth one.

It’s her best orgasm of the night.

Hardly the only one though. The sun’s already shining outside by the time they pass out from exhaustion on top of each other, hair messy and tangled, makeup blurred with sweat.

They sleep like babies.

 

 

A few hours later, when Lucy runs off to at least catch her favorite class, Camila checks her phone and finds out that her fan section who loves Lucy, independently and still completely unaware of their connection, spent the night screaming with joy about their costumes. She even finds a thread of someone who has paralleled her solo pictures with Lucy’s similar ones over time. It takes all her self-control not to like the tweet of Harley Quinn Lucy grinning mischievously next to the photo of her Poison Ivy baring teeth and nails.

Everyone else just obsessed over how hot she looked and gushed about how glamorous Taylor’s party seemed – not even sparing Lucy a second thought.

Overall, Camila is quite happy with how her Halloween turned out.

 

 

**xxv.**

Many emotions have made themselves known to Camila tonight. She’d felt stressed before her performance and proud after it, she’d felt excited and grateful when she’d won two awards.

Right now, her prevalent emotion is regret.

She’s annoyed at herself she’d allowed Calvin and Sara to convince her to go to an after-party. She hasn’t set foot in one since the Latin Grammys the year before.

“Mila, please!” Sara had pleaded, puppy eyes in full swing. “You won New Artist of the Year _and_ Favorite Female Artist Pop/Rock! This is important!”

“AMAs today, Grammys next year,” Calvin had simply said, hands in pockets and a cheeky grin etched on his face.

She’d reluctantly agreed and now of course she’s having daydreams of being home with Lucy instead of here. Not home, she has to remind herself, Lucy’s home. Her home is in Miami and her L.A. residence is one of Epic’s apartments. She just spends a lot of time in one particularly cozy Westwood address and her brain sometimes has fits of fancy.

Tired of loud chatter and air that smells of too many people farting and wearing cologne, she excuses herself and steps outside to the terrace, halting by the handrail to appraise the rather unimpressive view of modern architecture built by egomaniacs competing with each other.

“Camila?”

At the sound of that voice calling her name, Camila feels like the wind’s been knocked out of her and she has trouble forcing herself to turn around.

She doesn’t have to. All too soon, Lauren is standing next to her, glorious in her dark red gown and with wavy hair cascading down her naked back.

(it’s a mere coincidence, but they’re both wearing red. Camila can already imagine the “who wore it better” tweets that should be flaring up on Twitter, not to mention the camren accounts coming back from the dead to flail about it.)

“I thought that was you,” Lauren says, and she’s smiling, either blissfully unaware of what her mere presence is doing to Camila’s nerves or purposefully indifferent to it. “I recognized your, uh– yeah, it looked like it was you,” she finishes in a stutter, a soft pink coloring her cheeks.

Camila winces, not naïve enough to not know what Lauren had been about to say, and lets out a weak, “Hi.”

“Congratulations on your awards. They were well-deserved.”

“Thanks,” she replies, stiff and scared. She doesn’t understand why Lauren is being so nice. They hadn’t talked to each other in person in almost two years.

“Two years ago, we gave Fifth Harmony’s best performance on that stage.” It comes out wistful, like Lauren is lost in memories of better times. “Who knew _That’s My Girl_ could jam that hard?”

“Fifth Harmony’s best performance of one of our own songs,” Camila corrects, eternally undecided between preferring their performance of _Exes and Oh’s_ or of _Like I’m Gonna Lose You_.

“Our, huh?”

Camila blushes. “Fifth Harmony were my life for four and a half years. Our, yeah.” She releases the breath she’d been holding since Lauren’s husky voice had first paralyzed her. “When are you freeing yourself from that anyway?”

“End of the year,” Lauren replies with a chuckle, surprising Camila by not taking offense. “I can’t wait.”

“Are the girls here too?”

“No, you know I was always the party girl of 5H.”

Camila nods with a smile. “You here with Ty then?”

Lauren inhales, exhales, sets both hands on the rail as she flexes her fingers. “That… didn’t work out.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” She is. She has no ill intent towards Lauren. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

“It’s fine.” Lauren waves it off, but Camila can read the twitch of her jaw and the lighter shade in the green of her eyes. “We broke up a few months ago. He cheated on me. Several times, actually. I’m surprised Lucy didn’t tell you.”

Camila swears it’s involuntary, for there is no way she could’ve avoided her sharp intake of breath as she hears Lucy’s name falling from Lauren’s lips.

“Lucy doesn’t tell me your secrets,” she chooses to say, desperate to regain the ability to breathe without her lungs burning, “but I don’t think she ever approved of your relationship with Ty.”

“No, I don’t think she did,” Lauren agrees. “And she was right. Shame on me.”

“No, Lauren.” Camila extends her hand to touch Lauren but stops halfway. This is not who they are, not anymore. “There is no shame in falling for someone and giving it a chance.”

“I will pretend I can find comfort in that concept despite all the warning signs I ignored along the way.” She offers a small smile.

“At least you were happy for a while,” Camila says, returning the smile. “You never know if you don’t try.”

“Sometimes you do and you try anyway,” Lauren whispers, and for a moment she sounds so vulnerable Camila’s taken back in time to late night conversations in the back of tour buses, about dreams and childhood memories, shared in a secret language they’d learned together. “Are you happy?”

Camila gulps and moves her gaze away from Lauren to the extravagantly ugly houses surrounding them. How does one approach telling an ex about their relationship with that ex’s ex? Is it considered bragging to tell the truth? Is an apology in order? Should she avoid the topic?

“I am,” she admits at last. “Very happy.”

“Lucy talks about you like you painted the colors in the sky.”

Camila smiles at that, the reference to Lucy’s love a much-needed relief for the weight in her chest. She remembers all the verses she’s written about Lucy and the few songs that will come out of them. She remembers tears in the dark and laughs in the sunlight. She remembers hands touching private places and lips promising devotion. She remembers Puerto Rico and a tiny studio apartment in L.A.

Lauren’s eyes are trained on her and Camila notices the way her body collapses like a sigh when they lock eyes again.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Lauren,” she confesses shyly, head leaning towards Lauren’s. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Do you love her?”

“How could I not?” Camila retorts with a playful eye-roll. “Isn’t this too masochistic even for you?”

“You know me, always into inflicting emotional flagellation. I have to be at the end of it sometimes.”

“You’re an idiot,” Camila says, not unkindly, fondness seeping through her tone.

“That I am,” Lauren concedes with a small grin, looking up to the sky. A blanket of silence envelopes them, not entirely awkward, but not quite comfortable either. Until, “I’m really sorry.”

Camila’s heart – in a race against itself for ten minutes now – starts pumping so furiously she fears it might explode.

“For what?”

“For what I put you through, Camila,” Lauren says, a tinge of exasperation like it should be obvious.

It occurs to Camila then, that in her head there’s a lot Lauren could be sorry for, and only some of those things have to do with her. It’s a realization that hurts her a little, in all the places she’d pretended didn’t belong to Lauren anymore.

“I never considered your feelings when we were… doing things together.” She purses her lips – in disgust or discontentment, Camila couldn’t say. “I didn’t know what I wanted, I just knew that being with you felt good in those moments we shared. I chased after them but I never focused on them or you.” She glances at Camila again. “There was always some stupid boy who could serve as a distraction so I didn’t have to wonder why it felt so good to be with you.”

“You have _really_ bad taste in boys,” Camila cuts in, both because it’s true and because humor gives her mind something to hold on to.

“I… I don’t think I can deny that.” Lauren giggles, a youthful sound that echoes inside Camila’s ribcage. “And all that camren shit.” The repulsion in her expression and tone is now unmistakable. “I didn’t want them to be right, Camila. Can you understand that? I _needed_ to prove them wrong. I hated that they were looking at us, at _me_ , and seeing things that were supposed to be private, things that I thought I was hiding from everyone. Guess I was just hiding them from myself.”

Camila does extend her hand to touch her this time, leaving it on her forearm. Lauren’s skin is as smooth and cold as she remembered.

“I never stopped to think about that, you know?” Lauren admits. “About _you_. It took Lucy forcing me to meet her to tell me about you two for me to question my history with you. Ironic, I know.”

“This is a lot to process.” Camila’s breathing is shallow and she hates herself for how she still can’t be normal around Lauren. She wonders if she’ll ever get good at that.

“The more she’d tell me about you, the more it clicked for me how much I’d wronged you.” Lauren shakes her head, a puff of disbelief following. “It’s like you were this precious, fragile, colorful little bird and all I ever did was clip your wings again and again. I’m sorry,” she repeats, voice cracking. “I’m sorry it took me so long to understand that all this time I had the power to hurt you and I kept using it. I’m sorry.”

Camila’s instinct is to say ‘it’s okay’. That’s the standard response to an apology, right? But she can’t, not at this moment. For years, she’d walked around with a Lauren-sized hole in her heart. For years after, she’d tried to collect the infinite pieces of her shattered heart to become whole again. She doesn’t think she can be whole again – not doe-eyed and unreserved and open like she used to be.

Nothing that is mended turns out the same as it was before it was broken.

“Thank you,” she whispers, stepping closer so her side is touching Lauren’s. She thinks of her healing process, of how long it had taken and how much she had to grow up to feel okay again. She thinks that maybe Lauren needs some of that for herself. “I hope you find the strength to let yourself be loved by people who will make you better and stronger. I hope you find the strength to love them back, too.”

“Is that what happened with Lucy?”

Camila furrows her brows, tilting her head to the side.

“Did you have to learn to accept that good people can love you too?” Lauren clarifies, a hint of sadness in her eyes.

“Yes,” she replies, matter-of-factly. She’s still in that learning process – she’s not sure if she will ever _not be_ in that learning process. “But don’t think I regret what we had, Lauren. You helped make who I am today.”

“I wish I had valued you more.”

Camila shrugs, reminiscing about how regret was her prime emotion a mere half hour ago and now it’s being replaced by something else she can’t quite identify. “What’s done is done.”

Lauren sighs. “I should go.”

“I should too.”

They face each other for a beat and intuitively go in for a hug. And it’s funny, really, how their bodies still remember each other. How Camila’s arms go around Lauren’s waist (with Lucy, they tend to go around her neck); how one of Lauren’s hands isn’t flat on her shoulder, more like claw-like, almost forcing her into place; how Camila’s forehead rests on the spot where Lauren’s neck meets her jaw and Camila can’t help but breathe her in.

The smell and feel of Lauren is all-consuming still, yet she doesn’t crave it as a need anymore.

It’s just nice and tingly, in that way you get when you come across old photographs that make the lines of your smile taste like nostalgia.

Maybe there is hope for them to be more than scars for each other after all.

 

*

 

Camila punches in the code of the front door of Lucy’s apartment building and runs barefoot to the third floor, checking for the key under the welcome mat.

She wasn’t supposed to come here tonight but after her conversation with Lauren, she’d called Lucy and asked if she could stay over. She doesn’t have a key yet – she thinks it’s too soon when they’ve only been dating for six months – and Lucy was about to fall asleep when she’d phoned, so this was the solution they’d come up with.

She opens the door and locks it behind her, placing her shoes quietly on the floor and turning on her phone’s flashlight in order to be as unobtrusive as possible in the small studio. The bathroom is her first stop. She takes off her dress and folds it, leaving it on top of Lucy’s laundry basket – she’ll have to remember to bring it with her the next day. It takes her five minutes to undo her hair, remove her makeup and brush her teeth before she’s sliding around the folding screen to lie down in bed behind Lucy, shuffling until she has one arm over her waist and their bodies are joined together.

“Night, baby,” Lucy purrs, moving her hair away from Camila with a content sigh.

She’s half-asleep, but the gesture is so automatic for her that Camila gets what she’s asking for, and drops a gentle kiss on the nape of Lucy’s neck. “Te quiero, mi amor.”

It is especially clear to her now, with Lucy’s scent surrounding her and her lungs slowing down to breathe together with Lucy’s, after Lauren and despite her own reluctance to let it be so, that what they have is starting to feel like home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> writing wise, i'm not quite satisfied with how this chapter turned out, even though i edited it to the point of exhaustion. all mistakes left are mine, as i don't have a beta.
> 
> i will now start working on mean girls' last chapter coz i want to finish that before 2018, so the next update will take longer than usual. imma try to give you guys a 2017 farewell gift for asou but i don't want to promise anything. <3


	7. xxvi-xxviii

**xxvi.**

“Ariana sent me material for a song she’s working on.”

“Oh?” Lucy sort of prods, eyes never leaving the article she’s studying for one of her lectures.

“She wants me to be on the song,” Camila says, chewing her bottom lip and staring into the void. “Like a feat, or a collab.”

Lucy puts the papers down on the coffee table to look at Camila, an expression of concern sobering her features. “And you don’t want to do it? I thought you and Ariana were friends.”

“We are, and the song seems great actually.” Camila takes a deep breath, not knowing how to express that she’s going through some type of creative block she doesn’t understand. She hasn’t stopped writing poems and lyrics and random verses, but when she gets to the studio, nothing comes to fruition. All she does is argue and reject every sound the producers and engineers send her way.

Something is off and she hates feeling like she’s being difficult, but it’s _her_ music. She isn’t willing to put out an album if it isn’t going to be supercellular.

“Then what’s the problem, cariño?” Lucy asks, shifting on the couch so she can face Camila properly. “If you have to go somewhere else to record it, don’t worry about me.”

“No, no, that’s not it,” she rushes out, dropping a gentle kiss on Lucy’s lips. “She’s in L.A. too, she said she wants to hang out with us, so let me know when you’re free and we’ll schedule something.”

“Of course. You know I love Ariana.” Lucy smiles, moving closer. “Now why aren’t you jumping up and down at this opportunity, Cami? What’s up with you?”

“I just…” She sighs, and leans down so she can lay her head on Lucy’s lap. “Everything’s going so bad at the studio, I’m afraid I’ve just… lost it, you know? Maybe music isn’t my language anymore. I don’t want to drag Ari into that, she doesn’t deserve it.”

“Awn, baby,” Lucy coos, fingers weaving through Camila’s hair in soothing movements. “When I think of music, I think of you. I see you singing in the shower or practicing your guitar in the corner while I study. I hear you in my head, singing lullabies when I’m having trouble sleeping.” She kisses the top of her girlfriend’s head. “You _are_ music and music is your language. Maybe something is different now and you haven’t figured out what, so you’re kinda stuck, but that won’t last forever, okay?” Camila whimpers into Lucy’s thigh, utterly terrified of losing the thing that she’s built her life around. That she’s built her identity around. “I think you should accept Ariana’s invitation.”

“She sounded so excited and inspired, Lucy,” Camila whines, sitting back up. Lucy grins at her, and Camila just knows it’s because her hair’s all messy now. “What if I bring her down?”

“Cami, the only thing you bring down is me, from my high, after you make me come,” Lucy deadpans, arching one eyebrow when Camila flushes a deep red. “The way I see it, it’s a perfect plan. The song is Ariana’s, not yours, so you’ll feel less responsible to make it unbearably perfect as you tend to do with your stuff.”

Camila tilts her head. Lucy has a point.

“Also, come on, Ariana is your friend,” she continues, playing with the ends of Camila’s hair without even realizing she’s doing it. “You’ll be able to talk to her about whatever is bothering you and find a way around it. Seeing her creative process might even boost yours.”

Camila ponders Lucy’s words for a few moments, finding a quiet strength in the way she’s studying her – calm and loving. Patient.

“Okay,” she hears herself saying.

“Okay?”

She nods. “I’ll do it. I’ll call Roger and have it be organized.” She feels her heart skipping a beat as she drinks in Lucy’s unadulterated joy. “I’ve wanted to work on a song with Ari for years.”

 

*

 

There isn’t a lot of time for her to get together with Ariana. Her first Jingle Ball date is next week in Texas, so she spends half her time on rehearsals and the other half with Ariana in a studio.

In total, it’s four days of them working together, tweaking lyrics and juggling sounds and beats, and Camila is happy with her decision of taking Ariana up on her offer.

It makes her realize a few things and she feels closer to figuring out the mystery of why working on her second album isn’t being as productive as she’d expected, even if she can’t quite pinpoint it yet.

Her first clue is when she’s lying down on the studio floor with Ariana, several scribbled and wrinkled sheets of paper in front of them as they fight over what verse they like more to end the second stanza, and she feels uncomfortable. Not because of Ariana, and certainly not because they’ve been going back and forth over the same stanza for two hours now. It’s because as they lie there in their bubble of creativity, they’re surrounded by five men, in their thirties and forties – and all except one white.

Camila had never stopped to think about it, but even basically living with four other girls 24/7 during her Fifth Harmony days, so much of her music career was on the hands of men, decided by men, controlled by men.

And that hasn’t changed. 90% of the names on her debut album had been male and she’d never even wondered how or why that’d come to be.

Dating a feminist nerd is rubbing off on her in unexpected ways.

She lets Ariana win their what-verse-fits-better argument – it _is_ her song after all – and withdraws a little, positioning herself as more of an observer than a participant. It’s a decision that changes her life, and she will later travel back to this instant in time wishing she had never made it.

Camila finds herself in one of those moments when you’re both yourself and also somehow a spirit hovering above your physical self, witnessing the world as if it were a movie. It’s one of those moments that feels like an epiphany.

Ariana is one of the kindest women she knows, and also one of the strongest. She fights for what she wants and what she believes in. And yet, lying on that floor with both hands holding up her chin, Camila sees those men talking to her – she sees the way they’re insidious and the way they try to manipulate her into agreeing with them. She sees one of them hiding a condescending smile and another winking in response as if saying ‘I got this’. She sees Ariana standing her ground until she’s worn down by persistence and concedes to one of their demands, in exchange for a detail she’s too fond of to let go.

It strikes Camila as ironic that the song they’re working on is about women wronged by men.

It strikes her as devastating that music doesn’t always reflect an artist’s vision, so much as it reflects what the men behind the artist believe will be profitable.

It becomes clear right there, on a not-so-clean floor, that she needs something different for this album – something completely, authentically, unabashedly hers and _only_ hers.

She’s had control for a long time. Now it’s time to not allow anyone to even question it.

 

*

 

Roger is making lame dad jokes even though he isn’t one, and her mother is laughing like they’re funny.

(they kind of are – Camila would just rather have fun teasing him about them.)

She’d just finished her interview with iHeartRadio and now they’re in the drive back to Epic’s Manhattan apartment so they can rest before rehearsals.

“Roger,” she interrupts, making use of the courage she’s been garnering for the past week, since she’d left L.A. “If I wanted to try working with different people, how much stress would that add to your plate?”

Sinu lets out a soft whistle and looks out the window, excusing herself from the conversation.

Roger shuffles nervously in the middle seat. “What do you mean by ‘different people’?”

“Jack Antonoff, Mark Ronson, Ricky Reed,” she shoots out in a breath. “A female producer, _any_ female producer. Grimes, maybe? I like her work.”

“Camila, these people aren’t exactly lower or even mid-level in the industry. I’d have to check if they’re committed with a label and work around that.”

“Jack Antonoff isn’t,” Camila says, grinning like she’d just got served a hot pizza. “I already talked to him, he’s friends with Taylor and Ella. I’ll be coming back to New York in January to meet with him.”

“Okay,” Roger replies, drawing out the word in his disbelief. “Let’s start with that then.”

 

 

**xxvii.**

“Happy two-year anniversary!” Ashlee cheers, clinking her champagne glass to Camila’s and Sinu’s. “To many more solo years!”

“I can’t believe I’m actually in Miami again, on this day, and for Jingle Ball too.”

“I saw Dinah before the concerts started,” Sinu announces, after swallowing down her drink in one gulp. “She gave me a hug and told me to wish you luck for your performance, pero too late for that now.”

Ashlee snorts, and when Camila glares at her, she offers a sheepish grin. “I didn’t see any of them.”

“Dinah texted me but I only saw it now,” Camila says, eyes fixed on her phone’s screen. “Should I try to meet with her? We didn’t exactly lose touch, it just… well, it’s awkward.”

“You could always just reply when you’re snuggled up in bed and promise to meet at another time, aka never,” Ashlee suggests, gathering the belongings she’d scattered around the dressing room.

Camila looks at her mother, who shrugs in response.

“Well, that settles it then,” she says, putting away her barely-sipped champagne. “Let’s get out of here.”

It takes them a few minutes to finish packing up and to make sure they’re not leaving anything behind, before they’re walking side by side down the hallway. Camila watches with tired eyes as Ashlee shares a funny story that Sinu is following with rapt interest.

The sound of voices makes them stop and look ahead and Camila’s heart skips a beat when she notices Lucy, in ripped jeans and a light grey hoodie so big it reaches her mid-thigh, worn out Converse on her feet.

They haven’t seen each other in three weeks and Camila stumbles on her own feet, lips parting in amazement. Why she still gets startled with Lucy popping up unexpectedly she couldn’t say – Lucy has admitted her fondness for surprising her.

“I’m so happy you guys are talking again!”

And just like that, the feelings of warmth spreading over Camila’s chest at the sight of Lucy are replaced with dread and insecurity, because she isn’t alone. She’s with Dinah and Lauren.

Her mother’s arm sneaking around her waist is doing very little to prevent the traitorous shaking of her hands.

“Chancho!” Dinah shouts when she spots her, and Lucy and Lauren snap their heads in her direction too.

It’s the most mortifying moment of her life, it has to be. Dinah wraps her in a bear hug and behind her Camila can see Lucy’s widened eyes and Lauren rubbing her palms on her hipbones like she tends to do when she’s nervous.

Camila freezes.

Dinah doesn’t know.

“It’s so great to see y’all again!” Dinah goes on, oblivious, smiling at Sinu and hugging Ashlee. “It’s been too long! Can you believe these two are back on track?” she asks, pointing at Lucy and Lauren, who still haven’t said a word. “There’s hope for my OTP after all.”

Camila rolls her eyes. How many Lauren OTPs can Dinah possibly have?

“Uh, I don’t think OTP means what you think it means,” Lucy mumbles, voicing her thoughts.

Lauren greets them and Dinah cracks some joke and Ashlee plays off of her in a clear attempt to diffuse the tension. Camila just stands there, gaze darting from Lucy to Lauren and mouth too dry to form words. She feels like she’s back in 2016, scared and jealous and too exhausted to do anything but wait for relief.

Lucy won’t stop staring at her and Lauren won’t stop staring at Lucy and Camila is not strong enough to deal with any of it so she squeezes her mom’s wrist, digs her nails harder than necessary in the tender flesh, and pointedly looks at the floor, unable to be a part of this situation for any moment longer.

“Alejandro and Sofia are waiting for us in the car,” Sinu says, pulling Camila along already. “It was lovely seeing you girls again. ¡Feliz Navidad!”

Camila can feel Lucy’s eyes burning her as she walks away and when her mother leans closer to whisper, “Yo entiendo lo que estás sentiendo, pero Lucy sólo se quedó allí atrás porque no tuviste el coraje de decir nada. Por favor, no te enfades con ella,” all she can do is cry.

 

*

 

It’s a part of being into someone that Camila had never liked, and she had even forgotten, but as soon as she gets to her room, eyes puffy and bottom lip still wobbly, she opens social media and there it is. Dinah being Dinah, she had added a video of her with Lucy and Lauren to her Snapchat Stories, and of course Twitter is now all up in arms with the return of laucy.

After Lauren had dated Ty for so long, it’s not even like Camila can blame anyone for being ecstatic about the possibility.

She hates it. Hates that she’d gotten used to knowing Lucy and Lauren talk sometimes, but one glance at them together and she’s back to feeling like an accidental rebound that will be cut off sooner rather than later. Hates that telling Dinah was on her but she was so shocked over bumping into them that she was paralyzed. Hates that she’s the reason she’s alone in her room now, instead of cuddling with Lucy. Hates that she keeps opening her messages to see the last one she’d gotten.

_i’ll be with you as soon as i can, cariño._ _don’t fall asleep!! te extraño mucho <3_

Lucy texts for her to open the door when Camila is reading the stupid message for probably the thirty sixth time. She runs downstairs as quietly as she can and jumps Lucy with tears in her eyes and whispers of _sorry sorry sorry_ sobbed into her girlfriend’s neck.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Lucy fusses, closing the door behind her back and leading them to the couch in the living room. Camila promptly sits on her lap and Lucy adjusts their bodies until she’s pleased, entwining both her hands to have them rest on the other side, over Camila’s hip. “Why are you crying?”

“I’m so sorry, Lucy,” Camila says, with a hiccup. God, she’s such a mess. “I wasn’t expecting to see you at the venue – and I don’t know why I didn’t expect you, it _is_ Miami and I haven’t seen you for too long – and I was expecting Dinah and Lauren even less and I’m so tired and I just froze and it’s so unfair. I hate that I’m such a coward.”

Lucy chuckles softly, left hand moving under Camila’s shirt to rub circles on her back, and kisses her shoulder with a sigh. There is a long moment of silence, Camila drying her tears with her sleeves, Lucy burying her nose in Camila’s skin.

“I’m not angry, cariño,” she says eventually.

“You’re not?” Camila asks, eyes bright and open with fear and shame.

Lucy shakes her head. “It was an unfortunate situation. Lauren got me the pass to the venue and went to pick me up after the event and Dinah… she intercepted us on the way to your dressing room. We were trying to get rid of her, but she kept going about old times and wanting to drag us to see you – which was my original intention, by the way. Just not with fucking Dinah on my toes.”

“I’m sorry you have to hide because of me,” Camila whimpers, shifting to fold her arms around Lucy’s neck. “I’m sorry you can’t be free and true to yourself.”

“Cami, look,” Lucy begins, pulling back so they’re staring into each other’s eyes. “Yes, I’ve had a girlfriend everyone and their moms knew I was dating and I’m not gonna lie, it was liberating to be able to do and say everything I wanted to everyone everywhere without a second thought. But that girlfriend wasn’t a superstar, she was a regular girl who went to college and only got to know the tiniest bit of the spotlight because of me.” Camila sniffles and looks down, but Lucy’s fingers find her chin to reposition her. “I don’t have to hide because of you, not exactly. Everyone that matters to us both knows about us. We’ve been together in public in a lot of different places.”

“I know, but like… I wish I could give you everything you deserve. I wish I could be unlimited for you.”

“You and your perfectionism,” Lucy teases, kissing the tip of her nose before capturing her lips in a slow, tender kiss. “I don’t exactly mind that we’re kind of a secret, you know? If I did, we would be talking about it a lot more than we do.”

“You don’t?” Camila blinks. She’s so used to not have her romantic needs met. “It’s just… When I was 16, I dated this guy Austin for a few weeks and it was half true, half PR, but the exposition of the whole thing was so _awful_. I haven’t been able to come clean to the public with my relationships since then.” She frowns, focusing on Lucy’s face. “I also haven’t had a relationship as good as ours, that made me feel guilty of hiding but still too scared of doing anything else.”

“I get that, cariño.” Lucy sighs, tracing Camila’s eyebrows with the tips of her fingers. “When I was dating Lauren, she was already a public figure and it was hard, but everyone knew us as friends from before that and so everything was kinda blurry. There were suspicions, sure, but we could like each other’s Instagram posts without fearing the dawn of the apocalypse.”

“Jerk,” Camila breathes out in a laugh.

“You…” Lucy pauses, and Camila watches the way her brow furrows and how her teeth mark her bottom lip as she tries to find the best words, “You’re more than just a public figure. _Havana_ was a smash hit and your album was number one on iTunes in what? A hundred countries? _Everyone_ knows you. As much as I like not to be a secret, I also enjoy privacy and peace of mind. Your fans are rabid.”  She huffs and rolls her eyes. “I’m also not looking forward to having my social media mentions invaded by the camren crays again.”

“People still ship camren?” Camila asks, rather sarcastically. “In the year of our Lord 2018?”

“It will be 2020 and the US will have a decent president again and people will still ship that mess.”

Camila giggles and hides her face in Lucy’s neck, breathing in her scent and allowing herself to feel the comfort Lucy brings, the warmth she craves in her absence. “So you’re okay with us not having a public relationship then? It doesn’t bother you?”

“When it bothers me, I’ll let you know.” Lucy shrugs and Camila takes the opportunity to tuck herself the tiniest bit closer. “For now, who cares if I can’t post cute pictures of you everywhere and reply to all your tweets? Our relationship is real and public where it matters.”

“You screenshot all my insta posts and tweets and send them to me with silly comments,” Camila snarks, pursing her lips.

“You just proved my point,” Lucy sasses back, pinching her butt and making her yelp. “I have all the pleasures of social media and zero of the stress.”

Camila pulls her head back, trying to gauge if Lucy is serious about the subject or if she’s just being accommodating. “Fair,” she relents, kissing Lucy’s forehead. “I missed you _so_ much, corazón.”

Lucy holds her tight, leaves sloppy pecks all over her face, and starts telling her about the things Camila missed since she’d left L.A. She tells her about the new Mexican restaurant that opened down her street and about one of her classmates getting her to join a poetry club because they have slams. She goes on a five-minute rant about one of her professors for giving her a B in an essay she had worked her ass off on and then speaks passionately about starting to play the piano again. She jokes about the kids in the skate park hitting on her and laughs as Camila pouts.

It’s domestic and lovely and Camila knew all those stories already – just like Lucy knew everything she’d shared too –, but it’s so good to just be touching Lucy as they catch up, to be hearing details she’d missed, to play with her girlfriend’s hair and kiss her whenever she wants.

It’s only when they’re snuggled in her bed almost asleep, after an intense make out session she didn’t allow to go further because both her parents and her sister are sleeping in the nearby rooms, that it occurs to Camila that _Lauren_ should’ve been the one telling Dinah the news. She’s known about the relationship for long enough.

As much as she tries, Camila can’t understand why she didn’t.

 

 

**xxviii.**

Camila has always loved Christmas. She loves her family, she loves that it’s more than just the four of them for a couple of days, she loves the special food that only makes an appearance this time of the year, she loves giving presents and feeling the magic atmosphere in the air wherever she goes.

She loves Christmas, she does, but this year she can’t help feeling like there’s a part of her missing and she fills it by spending time with her Miami friends and by sending elaborate video messages to her other, of the more famous variety, friends, making sure to contribute as much as she can to their Christmas spirit. She even goes live on Instagram to wish all her fans happy holidays and stays for a bit longer than she’d intended. Her fans may be rabid, but they are cute and supportive and she owes them everything she has.

It’s a bit silly, to feel such longing for something so new, when all her life she’d been perfectly content with just this. But now she has Lucy and Lucy is in Bogotá and every moment she isn’t drowning in people and noise and love, her heart tugs at something empty in her chest and she sighs at nothing in particular.

“Podemos invitar a la Lucía para el próximo año, si quieres,” her father whispers in her ear, as he catches her in yet another of those moments after their Christmas dinner.

Camila blushes and shakes her head, but the yearning buzzing through her ribcage only lessens later that night, when Lucy facetimes her to exchange family stories and they both fall asleep with the call still on, welcoming the oblivion to the sound of deep breaths and tiny whimpers of comfort.

 

*

 

Lucy grabs her hand as they navigate the sea of people at the party to reach the kitchen and get some drinks. They’d spent Halloween with her friends, so they’d agreed to cross into the New Year with Lucy’s friends. It’s only fair to take turns.

This would be a lot easier if Lucy wasn’t, well, Lucy. Her Miami life had been parallel to Lauren’s Miami life and it’s making Camila feel a little awkward now, to come across an unexpectedly large number of faces she recognizes from a time when Lauren was one of her best friends. From a time when she had to smile and pretend she was okay seeing Lauren flirt with boys.

She holds Lucy’s hand a bit tighter than what would be considered normal, hopes she doesn’t annoy Lucy with how clingy she already feels she’s going to be. She’s come a long way since the time she would start crying at parties and her parents had to come pick her up, but a part of her still gets anxious at big social gatherings, especially ones where she feels she has no control over anything but herself.

Lucy seems to understand, draping herself around Camila at all times as if being on her own doesn’t make sense anymore.

“What’s got you all tense, Camilita?” Vero asks at some point, passing them two glass shots with an unidentified clear liquid. “Lauren called saying she isn’t coming, you can relax.”

Camila’s breath hitches, her eyes widen, and not a second later, Lucy moves her hand so her thumb is inside Camila’s shirt, drawing warm circles that bring her back. She’s ashamed of her reaction, ashamed that Vero – a person she hasn’t seen in _years_ – just waltzes in like she knows her, making comments about how she does or doesn’t look.

She’s ashamed that, in some twisted way, Vero is right. She isn’t ready to be around Lucy and Lauren at the same time, she isn’t yet prepared to have her past and her present battling it out for her peace of mind, not live and right in front of her, rather than in the quiet, gloomy stage where her demons go to argue amongst themselves.

“You suck,” Lucy tells Vero, sticking her tongue out. “That shot better be good to compensate for your general suckiness and unpleasantry.”

Camila chuckles and kisses her cheek, her free hand joining Lucy’s at her waist with a light squeeze in thanks.

“Those aren’t even words!” Vero protests, gulping down her shot in less than two seconds. “Drink it up, ladies, I want to grab some more.”

The night goes on like that, with Vero intent on getting everyone drunk. Lucy lets Camila indulge, opting to keep to the tipsy side of the alcoholic scale for now. When the midnight is approaching, Camila pulls her girlfriend to a less busy corner.

“Last year, I spent the New Year with people I barely knew and almost kissed Nick Jonas,” she explains, when Lucy arches an inquisitive brow at her. “You better fix that.”

Lucy laughs for a moment, but as the crowd next to them starts chanting the countdown, she grows serious and focuses her gaze on Camila’s, who smiles softly and blushes, fighting the urge to avert her eyes.

“Two, one…” Lucy whispers, fixing Camila’s hair behind her ears as an excuse to rest her hands on Camila’s face.

“Happy New Year,” Camila whispers back, leaning forward until Lucy’s lips meet hers.

It’s a gentle kiss. It starts slow, so slow, with a tentativeness they’d mostly lost after seven months of dating. The chaos around them fades as the background it truly is, and Camila becomes hyper aware of the blood pumping in her veins, of her lips moving against Lucy’s, of the way Lucy inhales sharply when Camila slides her tongue to meet hers.

Lucy’s hands feel warm on her neck and for a moment Camila believes she’s flying, lifted up by the sensations trickling through her body due to Lucy’s touch and scent. It becomes too much and she pulls back to rest her forehead against Lucy’s, heart thunderous in her chest.

“I love you,” she breathes out, flushing a deep read as soon as she realizes what she’d just said.

But Lucy ignores her embarrassment in favor of hugging her so tight the air is knocked out of her lungs, fingers digging in Camila’s back and keeping her in place as if Camila would even think of being anywhere else.

It’s quiet, but Camila does hear a soft sob and so she begins playing with Lucy’s hair, turns her head just a little so her mouth is next to Lucy’s ear.

“I thought no year could be better than 2017,” she starts, voice wavering with emotion. “I was on my own, creating my music, becoming a better version of myself and watching as the world was happy to take me as I am.

“But 2018… I can’t believe my album debuted at number one in Billboard’s 200! I thought I could never be or feel any happier than I did when I found out. Except you came back into my life a few days after that and you… you changed everything. With your patience and kindness and love, you found a space in my heart and I don’t– I don’t want to know what it is to live without you anymore. I love you. So much. I love that I got to start 2019 like this.”

Lucy doesn’t say anything, just stays melted in the embrace for moments that taste like forever to Camila.

“Eres el cielo donde brillan mis estrellas.”

Camila chuckles, tapping Lucy’s ass playfully. “You’re so cheesy.”

Lucy moves back a little to stare at Camila, eyes bright with mirth and fondness. “You love it.”

Camila can’t deny that. She can’t deny 2018 was the best year of her life so far and that this is the best New Year’s she’s ever had either.

She can’t deny that Lucy is the main reason both those things are true.


	8. xxix-xxx

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's one scene with quite a lot of Spanish, so for anyone in need of translations, the first comment of this chapter will have the necessary equivalents in english.

**xxix.**

The beginning of January goes by in a rush. Camila spends the few days after New Year’s with her family and friends in Miami before heading off to L.A. to record her vocals for Ariana’s feat. She does it in two days, and doesn’t leave Ariana’s side for a single minute. She even stays at Ariana’s hotel room because why bother with something else when she’s there for so little.

It’s another surprising turn of events brought upon by her relationship with Lucy. Her friendship with Ariana had grown closer almost parallel to it, and while before Ariana toed that line between acquaintance and light friendship, Camila now considers her one of her best friends. Their time in L.A. is spent singing and laughing, eating more than anyone in their teams would recommend – not that they care –, and sharing little secrets and joys and pains of being a twenty-something, alive and in love and doing what they’re passionate about.

Of course Ariana decides to post a selfie of them in their pajamas on Instagram during their last night together and breaks the internet, but that’s the least of their concerns.

Camila sheds a tear when she says goodbye on Wednesday morning. She is thrilled to go meet Lucy in Puerto Rico for her birthday, but it’s not often that she feels the simplicity of female friendship, with no doubts about second intentions or fears that old friends remained out of interest or worries about appearances: just sleepovers and romantic comedies.

It reminded her of her very early days with Fifth Harmony, before her heart became Lauren’s.

Camila doesn’t know what it means that her mind escapes to Lauren so often now that her heart is safely tucked between Lucy’s lungs. She isn’t sure it matters anyway.

She just really wishes it didn’t hurt anymore.

 

*

 

Lucy is waiting for her at the airport’s parking lot and it makes her happy that she came to pick her up in the jeep. She’s grown fond of that jeep and the places it had taken her to, of the music always a volume level too high and of the purposefully off-key singing that often follows.

“You needed a suitcase that big for just three days?” Lucy asks as she closes the trunk, arching one mocking brow at her.

“Oh shush it,” Camila snaps back, with an eye-roll and her tongue sticking out. “Your present is too big and I didn’t want to make it obvious by bringing it in my hand.” She fastens the seat belt and starts fiddling with the radio. “What are we playing today?”

“Here,” Lucy says, dropping her phone on Camila’s lap. “Pick whatever you want, I’m in an eclectic mood.”

Camila smiles when she unlocks the phone to see a picture of herself as wallpaper – a ridiculous selfie of a Karla look Lucy had insisted on her taking –, and she has to bite her tongue not to joke about how Lucy is so whipped. “Banks alright?”

Lucy nods and for a few minutes they stay silent, just enjoying the music; Camila watching her with affection as she drives away from the airport to take the highway to Mayagüez.

“So,” Lucy starts, grabbing Camila’s hand to place it under hers on the gear stick. “About that big present you got me…”

She’s wiggling her eyebrows with a naughty little smirk and Camila’s heart _melts_.

“ _No_ ,” she tells Lucy, one finger pointed at her as if she’s a parent scolding an inconvenient child. But she’s laughing and her chest is warm.

Nothing ever feels as good as being with Lucy again after a period of absence, no matter how short.

 

*

 

Since it’s a Wednesday and Camila is tired from work and flying, they decide to stay in. They cook dinner alongside Lourdes, who keeps teasing Lucy and embarrassing her to Camila’s great entertainment. It’s impressive that Lucy’s skin tone hasn’t become permanently red with how much she’s been blushing in the past hour.

“Voy a poner la mesa que ya estoy harta que me bromeen,” Lucy huffs, dramatically leaving the kitchen with the plates and the cutlery in terrible balance.

Camila laughs harder than she probably should as a supportive girlfriend and Lourdes joins her, their laughter mixing with the sounds of water running and chopping vegetables. It’s so domestic and intimate in an innocent, familiar way, and they both fall silent with smiles on their faces, quietly letting their soft spot for each other grow.

“Mi nieta es una nena increíble y tú me gustas para ella,” Lourdes whispers, conspiratorially. “Es obstinada y luchadora y tiene más coraje en un dedo que toda esta isla en el cuerpo entero.”

Camila drops the tomato she was about to chop for the salad, and is aware in that moment that her face is matching its color so maybe she should just join Lucy in the dining room. Lourdes keeps talking though:

“Sin embargo, hay casi siempre una nube negra dentro de ella, una revuelta constante contra todo lo que va mal en el mundo,” Lourdes proceeds, focused on stirring the pot. “Contigo, esa nube se disuelve. No soy romántica, no creo que el amor cambie nada,” she adds, in a rather nonchalant remark for someone who’d just shattered Camila’s life approach in a single sentence, as she decides the meal definitely needs more garlic. “Pero sí, creo que hay personas que se hacen bien unas a otras y que se ayudan a ser mejores. Y tú traes a mi nieta una cosa que le hace mucha falta.”

“¿Y eso es?”

“Serenidad,” Lourdes says, simply – a shrug of a shoulder, a hint of a smile. “Lucía sigue queriendo y luchando por un mundo mejor, pero ya no lleva esa revuelta toda en el pecho. Puedo estar equivocada, pero me parece que, con esta nueva paz que la rodea, hasta se ha vuelto más eficiente en su forma de enfrentar los problemas.”

Camila opens and closes her mouth a few times, searching for something to say. Her stomach betrays her by giving room to a thousand butterflies, fluttering wings flying up her torso and stinging behind her eyes.

“Pero, ¿qué sé yo? Soy sólo una vieja loca.”

She is old and wrinkly and short, of the same brand of skinny as Lucy is, and for a moment all Camila sees is a life well-lived, the witnessing of people coming and going for both great and horrible reasons, the melodious steps of someone who’s seen too many sunsets and sunrises to count, the curved shoulders of secret burdens and years of hard work.

“Creo que sabes mucho, abuelita,” Camila exhales at last, overcome with emotion and reaching for the wooden spoon to stop Lourdes’ movements. She’s nervous and scared, but wraps her arms around the woman anyway. “Nada me dejaría más feliz que si tú lo supieras todo.”

She knows she’s the lamest, but she can’t help the tears prickling her eyes when Lourdes returns the hug, with a strong hold and comforting pats on her back.

If this is the approval she’s getting from Lucy’s family, there’s nothing else Camila could ask for.

 

*

 

They’re half-naked in bed, entangled in each other, as the midnight strikes on the 11th. Camila covers Lucy in kisses and sings her happy birthday in both their languages, in an obnoxious high-pitch that has Lucy poking her in the ribs to shut her up. They fall back in a bundle of limbs and sheets, giggling and delirious with joy.

“Let’s wake up at 7 so I can get as much Cami as I can on my bday,” Lucy suggests, already setting the alarm and giving Camila no chance to rebuff that plan whatsoever.

“Will you still have energy to party tomorrow night if we wake up that early?”

“Will _you_ have energy for your red-eye on Saturday and your album’s one year anniversary party if we wake up that early?” Lucy claps back.

Camila bites her tongue, swallows the disgustingly, tooth-rotting sweet thoughts that pop up in her brain – the “you’re all the energy I need” and the “baby, you’re just like my Red Bull, you give me wings” – and opts to snuggle Lucy closer, nose buried in her hair.

Lucy always smells of home and earthy scents.

 _“I’m so in love with you / And I hope you know / Darling, your love is more than worth its weight in gold,”_ she sings softly instead.

“Buenas noches, cariño,” Lucy whispers, her arm holding Camila’s waist a little tighter, her breath turning into deep puffs of air that tickle the base of Camila’s neck.

Camila keeps singing. She sings and sings and sings, to the dark of the night and to the beating heart inside Lucy’s ribcage. She sings all the songs that remind her of Lucy and she sings songs that haven’t been invented yet.

She doesn’t stop until sleep takes over, and she believes she’s dreaming when she hears Lucy say, “Love ya.”

 

*

 

When Lucy’s alarm rings at exactly 7:01 AM, Camila growls and hides her eyes under her arm.

“Cami,” Lucy calls, alternating between wet kisses and harmless bites on her naked skin. “It’s my birthday.”

Camila smiles despite herself, makes her best effort to use the dormant arm under Lucy to bring her closer. “Yes, it is,” she agrees in a yawn.

“Can I get my present now?” Lucy sounds like what Camila imagines a dog would sound like if they could speak when their owner announces they’re going for a walk, and the mere thought has Camila chuckling to herself. “Why are you laughing?”

“If you were a dog breed, what would it be?”

“I will have to get back to you on that,” Lucy replies after a minute. “You’d probably be a retriever puppy, no?”

“Yes!” Camila nods enthusiastically and disentangles herself from Lucy to get up and go to her suitcase. “Here you go, corazón,” she says, handing Lucy a fairly big wrapped package. “Feliz cumpleaños.”

Lucy squeals and goes about the whole ordeal the same way a child does: with no regard or consideration for saving the wrapping paper for another gift-giving occasion. Camila beams at the scene, endeared yet a little worried about her reaction.

“A skateboard?!” Lucy almost shouts, bringing a hand to cover her mouth when she realizes how loud she’d spoken. “You got me a skateboard?”

Camila winces. “Yeah, like, yours is super old, you know? I guess you’re probably super attached to it – and I’m sure it still works! – I just thought maybe it’s something you could use?” She wrings her fingers together, not daring to look at Lucy. “I don’t understand much about skating, so I had to chase your friend Sarah around like a cyber stalker and bother her to figure out what kind of board you like. I didn’t want to give you a bad present.” With a quick breath, she musters the courage to finish, “I decided on the classic since yours is a classic model too, but the guy at the store said you could go there and get it personalized. It’s in L.A. so we can go together, if you want.”

“I love it so much, baby!” Lucy jumps out from bed to practically smother Camila in a tight hug. “I’ve been thinking of getting a new one for ages!”

Camila sighs in relief, and as Lucy’s ‘thank you’ kisses develop into something more, the skateboard is left abandoned on the floor.

 

*

 

They have breakfast at home with Lourdes, who’d prepared a special meal with all of Lucy’s favorites and hadn’t allowed them to lift a finger to help her, not even to put everything back in the kitchen and wash the dishes.

“Vayan a divertirse y me dejen sola porque tengo cosas que hacer,” she had said, slapping Lucy’s butt with the dishcloth to shoo her away. “Hasta luego.”

So they do as she says and leave the house to spend one hour at a skate park trying out Lucy’s new toy. Camila falls on her side two minutes into her skateboarding debut – after much panicked screaming – and decides she’s fine just cheerleading for Lucy.

“I’ll get you a pair of rollerblades for your birthday,” Lucy half-jokes. “They’re a lot easier on your flawed balance.”

Camila pretends she doesn’t hear her. There’s a lot she loves about Lucy, but her extreme sport tendencies and practices, between skateboarding and parkour and something Camila likes to call ‘acrobatic yoga’, are a peculiarity she prefers to support from afar.

They go to the beach after that, and stay until it’s almost lunch time. They’re late, in fact, and shower in a rush to the yells of respect and punctuality Lourdes is sparing them from across the house. Lucy mumbles under her breath the entire time they’re getting ready, and that only serves to increase Camila’s anxiety levels.

They’re meeting Herlinda for lunch and Camila would be lying if she said she wasn’t slightly terrified of her mother-in-law after Lucy had started opening up more about her family life.

(or future mother-in-law. details.)

Herlinda _does_ look like she’s about to raise hell on earth when they arrive five minutes late to the restaurant, but one glare from Lourdes keeps her in check and she manages to hug Lucy and place a gift on the table without much fuss. She’s even genuinely nice to Camila, which is somewhat of a surprise.

It’s a pleasant meal, really. Everyone’s on their best behavior and Camila enjoys witnessing three generations of women coming together, sharing differences of opinion brought upon by distinct life experiences. She’s never quite as aware of that when she’s together with the women of her own family for she’s known them ever since she was born. Her mother and grandmother clash with each other sometimes, but they rarely do with her, as if Camila’s this fragile thing they handle with care.

In fairness, they just all have easy-going, similar enough personalities, and while the times have changed, the family’s core values haven’t. Not the case for Lucy.

Camila doesn’t miss the way she keeps resting her hand on her thigh whenever there’s no need for both hands to be visible. It fills her up with warmth and validation, to be needed by Lucy even when everything is okay.

 

*

 

After lunch, Camila packs and puts everything in the jeep’s trunk, and Lucy drives all the way to Fajardo because she wants to share the experience of the bioluminescent bay with her. It’s almost a 3-hour trip, but it doesn’t matter because Fajardo is not far from San Juan and Camila’s flight is in about fifteen hours anyway.

“I can party with my friends tomorrow,” Lucy tells her, Michael Jackson’s _Dangerous_ playing in the background. “For now, I want to enjoy my day with you before you disappear for fuck knows how long in New York with Antonoff.”

“It’s only an appointment, Lucy.”

“I have listened to _Melodrama_ ,” she deadpans, side-eyeing Camila. “An appointment will turn into several weeks of you holed up in a studio creating masterpieces.”

“I’ll still find time for you, babe.”

“Oh, I know. I wasn’t questioning that.” Lucy smiles, her right hand squeezing Camila’s thigh before returning to the steering wheel. “I just can’t wait for us to be back together in L.A. It hasn’t happened since late November.”

Camila returns the smile. She knows exactly what Lucy means. L.A. isn’t the favorite city of neither of them – in fact, Camila used to actively loathe it –, but it became _their_ city, as a couple, in a very short span of time. It’s where they get to be normal, go on dates when they feel like it, decide if they’re sleeping together that night or if Camila’s staying with her mom at the label’s apartment; it’s where they waste time at the beach, cuddle on the couch watching Netflix, work in their own things in the silent presence of each other.

Yeah, Camila thinks, L.A.’s come to mean a lot to them.

She misses it too.

 

*

 

It never occurs to Camila how much stronger than her Lucy is until they’re doing some sort of unexpected physical activity. Sure, watching the sparkling lights of a bioluminescent bay as the sun sets and the day turns into night sounds like a brilliant, awe-inspiring plan, but only until one has to kayak to a lagoon with the world around getting darker by the minute.

Camila cusses under her breath for most of the way, already suffering with the soreness she’ll be cursed with the next day, and she is half annoyed that Lucy is paddling so effortlessly in front of her while every move she makes results in a detestable splash that must be scaring all the fish away.

If there are any, that is.

Why would a stupid bay glow in the dark anyway?

In the end, she takes back all the mean thoughts she’d had, listening to the guide explaining the phenomenon and answering questions as the moonless night makes it easier for everyone to actually observe the practical effects of his words. He flips between English and Spanish with the typical ease of a Puerto Rican who works in tourism and, when the last question is asked, he leaves the group be to take pictures and experiment with the lights.

Lucy is enjoying herself by playing with the surface of the water and watching the reactions and the different colors that appear depending on where she hits.

It’s kind of breathtaking, in Camila’s eyes. Lucy is always beautiful, but there is something ethereal in her childish grin as she’s illuminated by the bluish hues of the agitated micro-organisms. It makes her fall that little bit more in love and she never wants to stop being amazed by this growing feeling inside her chest.

“What are you looking at?” Lucy asks, amused, parking her kayak next to hers.

“You,” she says lovingly, remembering another night in Puerto Rico, one that seems a lifetime ago.  Lucy’s expression fades into one of adoration, all soft lines and tender curves. “You under the colors of the sky.”

 

 

**xxx.**

Camila is apprehensive when she rings the bell to Jack Antonoff’s apartment with her mother in tow. It doesn’t bother her that they’re meeting in his home studio rather than a _proper_ one – lots of producers prefer working like that –, it’s just that she admires him in a weird, worshipping way. He’s only a person, she’d even met him in passing at the Grammys the year before, but he’s so private and his work is so delicate. It makes Camila wonder if she’s good enough for this. If she has it in her to ever give the world a _1989_ or a _Melodrama_.

They go up to the third floor and Jack shows them a tour of the not-too-big-but-exquisitely-decorated apartment, asking them if they want anything to drink. Sinu stays behind in the living room, with a cup of green tea, a plate filled with biscuits and free access to the 42-inch TV.

Jack’s studio is small but cozy, with an expensive mixing table and a high-end computer connected to two screens on the corner desk. His black guitar is haphazardly placed on the swivel chair in front of it.

Camila’s favorite part is the coffee table with the couches, armchairs and bean bags around it. They reveal a priority for teamwork and collaboration that she can respect. That she’s longing for even.

“Take a seat, Camila,” Jack tells her, throwing a couple of pens and a stack of draft paper on the table before choosing a well-worn armchair to sit in. “I have to admit when Taylor called me, I got very excited about working with you.”

“You did?” Camila asks, eyebrows lifting in surprise. “Wow, that’s… Whoa.”

He chuckles, setting his phone in front of him. “I read all the lyrics you sent me – and you’re very good. I also listened to the demos you have so far, and I believe I have a pretty accurate idea of what you’re aiming for with this album,” he says softly to Camila’s eagerness. “But that’s not how I work. And you know that, don’t you?” He waits for her to nod. “Why do you want to work with me, Camila?”

“I’ve followed your work with Taylor, Ella and Pink. Especially Taylor and Ella, because I’m friends with them, and I’ve been talking to them about this album and what I want to accomplish and they told me I should try to work with you for at least a couple of songs,” she explains, hands hidden between her thighs. She’s always cold in New York. “I feel like maybe you can understand what I’m feeling and what I’m trying to express. I’ve been having trouble with that.”

Jack smiles. “You surround yourself with talent, I see.”

“They are incredible. I can’t wait to see what they’ll do next.”

“I am happy to work with you, but I don’t want to work on any previously written lyrics or any pre-recorded melodies. We do everything together, from the beginning. Is that okay?”

“Yes, of course!” Camila beams, toning down the urge to hug the man. “I’m very flexible. Thank you so much for this opportunity.”

“It’s an opportunity for me too. Your first album was a fantastic debut.” He stands up to grab his guitar and sits back down. “Before we start working, I want to get to know you. Am I correct in inferring that this album is supposed to be about the evolution of a relationship?”

Camila gives herself a moment to think the question through, lips pursed in concentration. “Yes and no. I feel like that’s definitely a story that I want to tell, but for my personal vision as an artist, it matters to me more the journey I had to go through to find myself in this relationship and to accept that it’s good for me.”

“Excellent,” Jack says, with a clap of his hands. “That’s something I can work with. Will you share the story of how you two got together with me? Short version, we have time to get into details later.”

It’s funny how things are. She’s been very reticent to share her feelings with other producers, but since Jack is a friend of friends already, she has an implicit ease in trusting him. So she tells him about meeting Lucy when they were 15 and staying more or less in touch for a long time because Lucy was best friends with Lauren and eventually Lauren’s girlfriend. She tells him about the party at the beginning of 2018 where they’d seen each other again after over a year and how their relationship developed from there. She doesn’t tell him about her own relationship with Lauren. Not yet.

She has a feeling it will come up sooner or later anyway.

(and the dread in her chest at the idea tells her that maybe that’s precisely what she should be talking about.)

 

*

 

Jack is a very easy person to talk to. He makes her feel safe, with his sharing of just enough to keep her going and how much attention he pays to every single word she says. Maybe too much attention because she has the distinct impression he knows she’s hiding things from him.

And then,

“What’s the worst thing that’s ever happened to you?”

Camila blinks, heart picking up pace. “When my mom and I came to the US and left my dad behind.”

“How old were you?”

“Seven.”

Jack hums, fingers tapping his thighs gently as he stares at her. “Do you remember how you felt?”

“I was confused and scared. I didn’t understand why my dad wasn’t coming with us. I remember looking back and seeing him getting smaller and smaller.”

“Were you crying?”

“No. My dad was and that scared me.” Camila gulps, eyes darting everywhere. “My mom held my hand and pulled me away. She kept saying it was just for a little while, but I don’t think I knew what was actually happening.”

“And your dad is with you now? He’s been for a long time?” She nods, feeling like she’s about to suffocate. He studies her and each second that ticks by is another squeeze on her lungs, turning her breathing shallow and uneven. Her right leg begins to shake against her will.

Until, “So what _really_ was the worst thing that’s ever happened to you?”

He asks it so casually, as if he can see right through her.

And maybe it’s that, or maybe it’d been the crescent realization of what exactly is blocking her, but Camila starts crying.

“It’s stupid, it’s stupid,” she says, over and over again, rubbing furiously at her eyes. “I don’t want it. It shouldn’t hurt this bad, it’s so stupid.”

“Nothing that ever hurts us is stupid,” Jack whispers, patting her knee in a comforting manner. “Even if you’re just stepping on a Lego.”

Camila snorts, messy and unattractive, but she’s grateful for the small reprieve from the heaviness in her heart.

“Who hurt you?” Jack nudges, when Camila’s sobs turn to sniffles.

She looks up at him from under her lashes, eyes bright and wet, tear trails on her cheeks, bottom lip quivering. And then she takes the deepest breath she’s ever taken, meets his gaze up front and says:

 “Lauren.”

 

*

 

Jack isn’t the type of man that has an imposing presence. He seems perpetually unsure, everything in him about to twitch from a scare or another. His round glasses and the eyes often open wide, together with the scrunched-up nose that makes an appearance every once in a while, remind Camila of a bunny. The way he always uses his pointer finger to fix his glasses, precisely on the bridge of his nose, make her wonder if he ever had it hard at school or if he’d just been a wallflower. He’s the kind of man who seems happy to stay in the shadows, observing everything, helping someone else shine.

He’s also the kind of person who’ll bend over backwards to make everyone else feel more comfortable than he does.

“So your current girlfriend stole your ex-girlfriend from you when you were insanely in love with said ex?” Jack asks, eyebrows so high they’re almost touching his hairline. “I– I don’t mean to pry, I’m just trying to understand. You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to.”

“Lucy didn’t do any stealing, Lucy didn’t even know Lauren and I had a thing,” Camila explains, agitated. “ _I_ didn’t even know I wasn’t over this until I started dating Lucy!”

“What changed then?” he prods, shifting in his chair. “What I mean is, what did the beginning of your relationship with Lucy trigger in you that you thought was gone?”

Camila’s bottom lip starts wobbling again and she feels like such a spineless idiot. All of it had happened so long ago and here she is, crushed under the weight of it as if it had been just yesterday.

She doesn’t remember the last time she’d hated herself as much as she does right now.

“If I wasn’t enough for Lauren,” she begins, through gritted teeth, “why should I be enough for Lucy?”

“Ah,” Jack lets out, his demeanor softening as if he has even the slightest idea of how haunted she is by this senselessness. Of how haunted she’s been for a whole year over something so irrational. “And how does that make you feel?”

Camila scoffs. What is this? Therapy?

“Are you afraid of losing Lucy like you did Lauren?” he insists, kind but firm. “Is that it?”

“ _No_ ,” she snaps. And afterwards swallows, ashamed. None of this is Jack’s fault. “Well, I am, but that’s not it.”

“What is it then?”

Camila glares at him, just because he’s right there and it’s so much easier to project all of her negativity on him, blame him for the shaking of her hands, the sharpness of her breath, the burning sting of her heartbeat.

But it’s not his fault, she tells herself again. It’s not really anyone’s fault. People do the best they can at any given time, and what qualifies as ‘best’ is seldom the same for everyone involved.

“I am so fucking _angry_ , Jack,” she finally hisses, clenching her fists so hard her nails are stabbing the skin of her palms. “I hate that Lauren’s turned me into this shell of a lover, second-guessing everything I feel, second-guessing everything Lucy says and does. Lucy is _perfect_! And what does she get? _Me_ , terrified of fully letting go when she has done nothing but be amazing in every single way.” Unclenching one hand, she hits her own chest with a finger, loud and forceful, “I was supposed to be ‘love only’!” and when the tears get the best of her for the umpteenth time, she repeats, in a subdued voice, “I was supposed to be ‘love only’, but I am whatever this is instead.”

“There!” Jack says, triumphant and pointing at her as if she’s having a Eureka moment rather than a meltdown. “That’s it, right there.”

“What?” she asks, confused and tired and frustrated.

“That anger, I want you to hold on to that,” he instructs, pushing a black ballpoint pen and a few paper sheets in her direction. “Think of all that we could do with this emotion.”

 

*

 

Anger is not something Camila is used to channel. It’s something she hates feeling and so she tends to suppress it. As it turns out, anger is just anger. Like with anything else, what you do with it is what matters.

She doesn’t think she’s ever held a pen as tightly as she is doing now, scribbling whatever vicious thoughts come to her mind so hard they leave marks on the table.

_the one i love’s got another girl / might be fucking her right now_

She goes to cross ‘fucking’ out because her music’s never needed a parental advisory sticker, but Jack grabs her wrist. “Let it flow.”

So she does.

It’s not even a song, just a collection of indignant, incensed verses.

_it was a slap in the face / how quickly i was replaced / and are you thinking of me when you fuck her?_

It’s funny, she thought she’d let it all out with _All These Years_ , but that had just been dejected and melancholic. Sadness makes her soft and needy, everything cloaked in bittersweetness, somehow both painful and soothing at the same time. Anger, apparently, makes her brutal.

_you've twisted me out from the inside / so just leave me here with my tortured heart / or stay and watch as i cut it out_

 

Two hours later, she’s never felt so emotionally exhausted.

It’s oddly liberating.

 

*

 

Camila arrives to the hotel a little before six, which really isn’t late considering she’s had studio sessions lasting well into dawn. But she’d met with Jack at 10 AM and proceeded to get beaten left and right with feelings and regrets for the following seven hours with barely any break.

Sinu forces her to have a light dinner before going up to her room to take a nap. There’s no way she’d be able to Facetime with Lucy in her current state.

She’s not faring much better when she wakes up two hours later, five minutes before Lucy’s call is due. She considers getting up and brushing her hair, but she figures Lucy will find it adorable to see her wearing her glasses and with extreme bedhead hair.

“Hola, bebé,” she yawns into her MacBook when the call comes in.

 _“_ _¿Te desperté, cariño?”_ Lucy asks, with a frown. _“We can talk tomorrow if you want. I didn’t think you’d be so tired, it’s still early in New York for Camila standards.”_

“No, no.” She sits up and adjusts the laptop so she doesn’t have to bother with it again. “I took a nap when I got back from Jack’s. I was gonna brush my hair before you called but decided to stay in bed instead.”

 _“Awn, already not putting in the effort for the girlfriend?”_ Lucy teases. _“That started early.”_

“Lucy, _no_ ,” Camila whines, awkwardly covering her face behind her hands and getting her lenses all dirty. “That’s not fair.” She pouts.

 _“I’m just joking, cariño.”_ Lucy kisses her fingers and places them on the screen for a second. Camila almost feels it on her cheek. _“How did it go?”_

“You were right.”

_“I am always right, but how was I right this time?”_

Camila rolls her eyes, amused despite herself. “Jack had his January schedule cleared before even meeting me, so I guess I will be in New York for a while like you said. Don’t know how long yet. Roger is figuring out the most affordable accommodation for me and my mom but for now we’re staying at a hotel.”

 _“Called it!”_ Lucy fistbumps the air and Camila is endeared, as she always is, by Lucy’s ability to be the cutest child and the most wonderful adult, all in one package. _“I take it, it went well. Do you want to talk about it?”_

Camila sighs, casting her eyes downwards, her fingers tangling through the tips of her hair.

_“You’re nervous.”_

She nods. “I am.”

 _“What happened?”_ Lucy asks, fists lifted like she’s ready to fight. _“Do I need to go over there and punch this guy?”_

“Would I be staying in New York if that was the case?” Camila jokes back, rather pointedly.

 _“True,”_ Lucy concedes, after a pregnant pause. _“Why are you nervous then?”_

“Jack has his own particular way of working with artists, which might be the main reason I wanted to work with him, to be honest,” Camila explains, not quite able to look at Lucy for too long. “He tries to really get to know you, like, he asks personal questions, and shares some stuff about himself too. It’s good, you know? He’s very gentle and makes you feel safe. I was half confused whether he was a producer or a therapist.”

Lucy chuckles, and Camila manages to smile when she hears the sound.

“Thing is, at some point, Jack asked me what was the worst thing that ever happened to me and I… I didn’t expect the answer that I ended up giving.”

It’s Lucy’s turn to sigh and her usual playful demeanor turns serious. _“I guess this is the time we have a completely honest conversation about Lauren?”_

“What?!” Camila feels herself recoil, walls torn down by a day spent crying and creating music building themselves back up to imprison her.

 _“Cariño.”_ Lucy’s tone is assertive. Camila knows that tone. It’s the one Lucy uses to force her to pay attention. _“Every time Lauren is mentioned without you expecting it, you tense up. I’m not sure if you’re aware of that or not, but you do. And I’ve noticed it for a long time, I just never felt it was my place to approach the subject. I know you don’t like that either.”_

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

 _“Cami, stay with me,”_ Lucy says, her face now closer and occupying most of Camila’s screen. _“I’m not there to touch you, so you have to focus, baby. Look at me.”_

She bites her bottom lip to keep it from trembling, but does as she’s told.

 _“Do you remember the first time we had sex?”_ Camila puckers her brows, unsure where this is going, and nods. _“I tried to get us there that time in New Orleans and you stopped me. And then when we met again in Austin, you were finally ready so I pushed you down on the bed and you asked me to… well, to let you start or take the lead or whatever you wanna call it.”_

“I don’t understand. What does that have to do with anything?”

 _“I am trying to say that I get that you need control sometimes, you need to do things your way first. To feel safe, maybe? I don’t know.”_ Lucy does a little heart with her hands. _“I am trying to say that I know you, a little bit, and considering how you just reacted to me asking about Lauren, I know that I guessed it right, so don’t close yourself off again. Please, baby.”_ There’s a puppy look on her face now and that’s not something Camila can resist. _“What exactly is the worst thing that’s ever happened to you and how does Lauren connect to it?”_

She hides her face again, breathes in and out for several long moments. “I need you to not be angry with me, Lucy.”

_“I promise, cariño. Just talk to me. Please?”_

“I tried to tell Jack about leaving my dad behind in Mexico, but he didn’t think that was true. And I’m so, so ashamed, how is that… How did I leave my dad behind, how did I _abandon_ him, and this stranger takes one look at me and tries to dig deeper?”

 _“You were a kid, Cami, and your story has a happy ending,”_ Lucy reminds her. _“Kids process events in a different way from ours. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”_

“I was so embarrassed. I still am actually. I’m supposed to be over it and here I am, January 2019, having breakdowns about something that happened in 2015.” She harrumphs and crosses her arms, looking very much like a toddler throwing a tantrum. “I feel so stupid.”

_“2015… so when Lauren and I started dating?”_

Camila pouts and shakes her head ‘yes’. Lucy hums.

 _“I don’t want you to feel stupid, baby. Okay?”_ She waits for Camila to nod. _“There are things that happen, that from a rational or intellectual point of view seem objectively worse than others – like this thing with your dad, for example, compared to affairs of the heart. But what matters is how we feel and sometimes things that seem irrelevant to most people have this crucial impact in our lives.”_

“I don’t get it, Lucy,” Camila admits, uncertainly. “You make me so happy. I’m so happy, _we_ are so happy. Why is there a part of me that’s still stuck on this?”

_“Can I ask you a question?”_

“Of course.”

_“If Lauren appeared right this minute at your door, asking to take you back, to give her another chance, would you be with her?”_

Camila actually laughs in her disbelief. “No.”

_“And if Lauren appeared right this moment at my apartment, asking me to give us another chance, do you think I would take her up on that offer?”_

Camila hesitates, becomes increasingly aware of the hurt crossing Lucy’s features. “No, Lucy. I don’t think you would. And I’m not sure the issue is you, or me, or even Lauren, I don’t know how to separate this. I don’t even know if it’s possible to separate this.” She huffs, disappointed in herself. ”I waited for Lauren for so long but in the end it was you who made her heart sing. And I think, in my head, the way I made it hurt less was to idealize your relationship. Two gorgeous, intelligent girls, with their minds and hearts in the right place, brave and outspoken, who’d known each other all their lives and fell in love slowly but surely. It’s a beautiful concept. It made me feel less… inadequate.”

_“Does it bother you that I’m friends with Lauren again?”_

Lucy’s question is met with silence.

 _“Does it?”_ she persists.

“Yes,” Camila confesses, in a small voice. “But I don’t want you to stop being friends. This isn’t your problem or Lauren’s, it’s mine.”

 _“Why didn’t you tell me?”_ Lucy asks, now clearly annoyed. _“Camila, I can’t guess everything you feel, you have to communicate with me!”_

“You promised you wouldn’t be angry!”

 _“That’s not fair.”_ Lucy looks up, trying to gather strength. _“Look, Cami, I understand that Lauren is a sore topic for you. I do, and I respect it and I am fine giving you all the space and time you need, but from the moment it affects us, you and me, our little love unit, that’s the moment you need to share your feelings with me. Fuck, Camila, I thought you had a Lauren problem, not a Lauren and Lucy problem!”_

Camila winces, maybe whimpers even.

Lucy sighs. _“I’m sorry, cariño. I didn’t mean to snap at you, I’m just upset.”_

Camila feels her chest constricting. Emotional confrontations are her worst enemy, the willingness to get into them beaten out of her by her past fear of losing Lauren.

“Can you let me try to explain? ¿Por favor?” she begs. “You can say whatever you need at the end, but just… _Please_.”

 Lucy pretends to lock her lips with a key and offers a soft smile that helps calm Camila down the tiniest amount.

“This is all new to me, you know? I don’t… I don’t really like talking about what I don’t understand yet, except with my mom sometimes, and now you too. When we started getting serious, I was honestly terrified all the time. All the damn time, Lucy. I thought it was too good to be true, I woke up every day with a start thinking I’d gotten a text from you putting an end to everything.”

Lucy opens her mouth like she’s about to say something, but seems to remember she’d promised to stay silent and covers her lips with her left hand.

“And I know you’re aware of this, we’ve had talks about how all my relationships haven’t been relationships, just flings or a 3-year-long torture session, and you’ve been so so patient and I’m just… overwhelmed with joy every time I remember I get to say you’re my girlfriend. You’re my first real thing and I’m bound to make mistakes and I’m sorry if I hurt you by taking so long to accept that your love doesn’t have ill intentions, it doesn’t come with a small print detailing all the nefarious secrets and overly demanding conditions.

“I think– I think when I finally allowed myself to love you, to let myself go, to be for you what I truly want to be – what I have the power to be –, it opened old wounds that I had repressed. I _am_ over Lauren, but I’m not over this crippling fear of not being good enough. Opening my heart again – to you, of all the people in the world – brought back the memory of the consequences of having it open. And it’s… I’m angry and I’m scared, I’m so angry that I let Lauren do this to me and I’m scared that I’m feeling all of this.” Camila slides the pads of her fingers under her eyes and looks at them when she’s done, surprised they’re not wet. Maybe she’d cried enough for one day. “I am so, so sorry, corazón. It’s so much more than what you signed up for. You don’t deserve any of this.”

 _“Camila, I need you to understand that the only person who decides what I deserve is me. What kind of person would I be if at the first sign of trouble I just got up and left ‘cause I ‘deserve better’?”_ Lucy rolls her eyes and then arches one eyebrow. _“Sure, I’ve wondered what it would be like if I’d met you before you became who you are now, but then it hits me.”_

“What?”

 _“I_ did _meet you before you became who you are now and nothing happened between us. We had to get here to fall for each other.”_

Camila chuckles half-heartedly. “That’s actually reassuring, in a sorta twisted, roundabout way.” Lucy smiles at her, and for a few seconds they’re just smiling at each other like idiots. “I’m still sorry though. I have been writing songs about you for forever and when I get to the studio, nothing works. I don’t want you to feel like you’re doing anything wrong or like what I feel for you isn’t true. It is. It’s so strong and heavenly and so warm. Like if a mug of hot chocolate when it’s snowing outside was a feeling, you know?”

 _“You don’t need to use these cheap tricks to seduce me,”_ Lucy chimes in, smirking. _“I’m already your girlfriend.”_

“I mean it! All I wanted was to make a beautiful album about you and us and this happens.” Camila blows a strand of hair away from her face. “This is homophobic.”

 _“Aww, my banana princess is all caught up on her memes. I love my impact.”_ Luch winks and Camila blushes and they stare at each other in silence for another few moments. _“Maybe,”_ Lucy starts, careful and with doubt swimming in her eyes, _“you can’t make music about me, and us, until you get rid of Lauren. Maybe Art is showing you the way and you should follow it.”_

Lucy’s words hit her softly, like when she was a child and a pillow fight taken too far would result in a storm of tiny white feathers enveloping her. At first there’s a ripping sound cutting the air around her, and then shock as the sound gives room to the realization of what just happened, only for the gentle resignation of the chaos that’s to follow to take over at the end.

“I love you a lot, did you know that?” Camila breathes out, shoulders hunching down because facing her demons is not something she’s looking forward to. “Are you okay with this? With me going back to a time when I was hurting because of Lauren, and also you? Even if it’s just in the name of music?”

Lucy grimaces. _“Okay is a strong word, cariño. This is scary for me too.”_

“It is?”

 _“Yeah, like, you tend to downplay yourself, but you’re literally a light in my life._ God _, that was lame,”_ Lucy complains, facepalming herself. _“There are so many things that became clearer since we started talking, even more when we started dating. Like now I’m closer to the outwards expression of my inner self I have always craved.”_ She sighs and shuffles around until she’s lying down, propped up on one elbow. _“Of course this is scary for me too. I want you to grow and learn from this, to come out on the other side even better, but what if, in your process of finding your peace, you start resenting me? What if going back means that what you want in the present is different than you thought?”_ She halts, tilts her head closer to her naked shoulder. _“I don’t want to lose you, Cami.”_

“Hey, hey,” Camila calls, knocking on the screen for lack of a better way to draw Lucy’s attention. “You won’t lose me, okay? I will share whatever you need me to and withdraw whatever information you need me to, as long as you’re comfortable. I am happy to follow Art’s way – or whatever you called it – but only if I have you by my side. Otherwise there’s no point.”

Lucy’s cheeks turn a pretty pink that has Camila’s heart doing somersaults – Lucy blushing, Lucy blushing because of _her_ , is not that common an occurrence. _“Not to be dramatic, but I might be… a bit needier until you sort all of that out.”_

Camila pauses at that, studying Lucy for a long time: the fear in her eyes, the vulnerability in her eyebrows furrowed together, the nervous chewing of her lip.

“You know what?” she asks, a surge of determination and confidence taking over her for the first time in such a draining, heavy day. “I’m calling Roger. You’re coming to New York this weekend and it’s on me.”

 _“Perfect,”_ Lucy replies without missing a beat. She doesn’t comment on it, but the mere way in which her features relax and her grin returns to its natural teasing form tell Camila all she needs to know. _“I finish class at noon on Fridays.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not to be needy, but section xxx is kinda essential for the story and for camila and lucy's development, so if you guys could give me some sorta feedback, i'd really like that :3
> 
> btw, due to the heavy use and influence of music in this story, i decided to create a [spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/0gkloeja4lyza9rvhk4ouzwbx/playlist/12Kswr3AnzWoRw9Kc7TsVQ?si=w0uEG1ORQIGlPG4da3Al_w) if you guys are into that sorta thing. the lyrics used in this chapter are from kflay's blood in the cut, alanis morissette's you oughta know and tapping the vein's broken.


	9. interlude: a supercut of Lauren and Camila

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was a monster to write. it's the most emotionally exhausting - and, at times, intellectually demanding - chapter of anything i have ever written. i think i am proud of the result, but i'll let you guys judge that on your own terms.
> 
> shout out to my friend Ana for putting up with my suffering, my panic, my pain, my whining and everything in between in the 3 months i have been writing this. she held my hand the whole way through and contributed a lot to make it the best possible chapter.
> 
> there are two playlists for this chapter: [this one](https://open.spotify.com/user/0gkloeja4lyza9rvhk4ouzwbx/playlist/5ajtbLdCJkzhyqrUBiorpb?si=MX2pbSOfR32xnNOpF4x2vA) is more emotionally resonant with the feeling of the overall chapter; [this one](https://open.spotify.com/user/0gkloeja4lyza9rvhk4ouzwbx/playlist/3HbxoHwc43NY8XEo2w0QCr?si=t0gfANHcSjydU0X_qcbx2w) has the songs with lyrics referenced/adapted in the order they appear. pick your fighter!
> 
> translation of Spanish in the first comment

**interlude: a supercut of Lauren and Camila**

 

_"The stereotypical heart shape was meant to be two hearts fused together." - Anonymous_

 

 

_have no fear / for when i’m alone / i’ll be better off than i was before_

 

It’s December 19th 2016 and Camila is alone on her bed, tears streaming down her face. She knew it was coming, she knew _what_ was coming, but she still somehow wasn’t prepared for how it would hit her, a punch breaking through her chest to squeeze her heart and burn her lungs.

Fifth Harmony’s first statement had been so dry and she had hers ready to go for the sake of whatever circus their management had set up, even though she’d waited several hours until she posted it.

Now there’s a second Fifth Harmony statement and she hadn’t been expecting that. Each line brings with it a new set of tears and she isn’t sure there’s enough water in her body for all the pain she’s carrying inside.

Everything is ugly. So, so ugly, and unnecessarily cruel too, to all the fans caught blindsided and who held on to the band in its original formation for many different reasons.

She doesn’t know where it all went wrong. She doesn’t like thinking about how much of it might be her responsibility – something to be blamed on her dreams, her ambition, her desire for freedom. On her broken heart and her brutal reactions to it.

It doesn’t matter.

The leap of faith has been taken and a new life is about to begin.

 

*

_i tried to say that i was sorry to you / but you don't think i speak honestly / that's okay ‘cause i can move on now_

 

Camila passes past Dinah and Normani hugging in the hallway and rushes to their dressing room, eager to get rid of her stage outfit and just… _leave_. Lucy is there – of course she is – but Camila only offers a small smile to the girl’s awkward wave.

They both know what’s about to happen, there’s no point in playing pretend.

She throws her Florida Panthers jersey to the floor and quickly changes into the clothes her mom had packed for her earlier. Not so fast she doesn’t get to see Lauren walking in and rolling her eyes at her one last time before approaching Lucy.

Camila scoffs at the childishness. So many nights of secrets shared and kisses stolen reduced to spite and resentment. She can’t resist staring for a moment though; can’t resist one final bout of masochism as she watches Lauren hide her face in the crook of Lucy’s neck and swallow a sob; can’t resist the tug at her heartstrings that makes her move closer instead of away, resting a hesitant hand on the small of Lauren’s back.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, to Lucy’s nod of acknowledgment and Lauren’s sharp intake of breath.

She leaves then, practically running out of the venue until she’s halted by a familiar voice:

“That’s it?” Dinah asks, a hurt, offended edge to her tone. “You’re just gonna bolt? Without even saying goodbye?”

“Cheechee.” Camila sighs, turning to see her friend’s face washed in tears. “Isn’t this already hard enough?”

“Just come over here and give me a hug, you asshole,” Dinah orders, hands frantic in their beckoning.

Camila does as she’s told, and she cries in Dinah’s arms all the farewells she’d avoided, all the apologies she’d left unsaid and all the excuses she’d come up with for how much pain she’d caused everyone.

 

*

 

_you were fashionably sensitive / but too cool to care_

 

When their tour manager walks into the studio they’re rehearsing at to tell them Lauren isn’t going to perform with them because she’s been detained at Dulles Airport for weed possession, Camila laughs for hours.

She isn’t even sure why she laughs so hard, it just seems like such a _Lauren_ thing to happen and she can’t help how she feels amused, annoyed and endeared, all at the same time.

Normani is really angry and Ally shrugs it off as if it doesn’t bother her. Dinah joins Camila in her laughter and the jokes about _Orange is the New Black_ and 420 and Lauren as a sloppy dealer keep coming until it’s time for the concert.

The Brazilians are loud and loving as usual, exuberant in their enjoyment of the music, and making Camila smile from the moment she steps on stage.

It almost makes up for how they scream for Lauren and Camila lets a “Sing it for my girl!” slip out that sobers her mood.

The emptiness in her chest for what’s about to be the definite end of the story of her and Lauren doesn’t quite let her smile as brightly again.

 

*

 

_it's time to trust my instincts / close my eyes / and leap_

 

Roger calls her when she’s cuddled up with her mom and Ashlee, watching _Little Miss Sunshine_.

_“Have you checked Twitter?!”_

She yawns into the receiver, not to be mean on purpose, but because she’s tired and the mere thought of social media is emotionally draining. “I was watching a movie, so no. Do you need me to do some damage control? Did anything happen?”

_"Camila,_ Bad Things _just got to number one on iTunes!”_ the man yells, more excited than a pre-schooler at Disneyland. _“This is great news! Everything we’ve fought so hard for! You’re gonna be huge and this is just the beginning!”_

She squeals, energy levels suddenly in hyper mode, and shares the news with the two women present, who scream as loud as she does, clapping and jumping about for the embarrassing whole of ten minutes.

Hours later, when she finds her way to bed, she’s still ecstatic. More than the success of the song, it’s the hope that maybe, just maybe, for at least this one time, the huge chance she’s about to take won’t end in a complete failure.

 

*

 

_the love she receives is the love that is mine_

 

Camila has been staring for what feels like an eternity at the same Billboard article open on her MacBook, Lauren’s words going around in circles inside her head: _‘I am a bisexual Cuban-American woman and I am so proud of it.’_

She saw it coming, obviously. Lauren had been itching to be out and about as soon as she’d gotten Lucy between her sheets and, after those kissing pictures had been leaked, it was only a matter of time until the world was certain of what many already suspected.

Expecting it wasn’t making it any easier though. Camila’s been fluctuating between extreme jealousy, unadulterated rage and paralyzing sadness ever since setting eyes on those stupid photos.

A wedding. Lauren had taken Lucy as a date to her uncle’s wedding and proceeded to kiss her in front of everyone, in front of her family. With Camila, only their bandmates knew, and that was mostly because it _is_ kind of difficult to hide certain sounds in a tour bus.

Now everyone knows. Lauren’s deepest darkest secret, something she’d kept even from herself, is out in the open. Camila blinks, grabbing her phone to check Twitter. Her entire timeline is congratulating Lauren, crying over Lauren, declaring their love for Lauren.

Everyone except Lucy, that is.

It makes Camila wonder. About Lucy and how much she’d agreed to this. About herself and how much she isn’t sure she’d enjoy being involved in this. The idea of queer kids having someone to look up to warms her heart, but she isn’t quite so fond of how the world isn’t ready for people that stray from the norm. She doesn’t want to be known as ‘bisexual singer Camila Cabello’ or as ‘pansexual singer Camila Cabello’ – does the general public even know what pansexual is? She doesn’t want to have fans and interviewers alike badgering her about her sexuality and love life. She is proud to carry the Latinx flag – so much of her, of who she _is_ , is her culture –, but she doesn’t think of her sexuality as an important part of herself.

In truth, so much of her sexual discovery journey was done together with and relating to Lauren that she has learned to separate herself from her sexuality. She has distanced herself from it to a degree where she barely thinks of it as something pertaining to her, more as something that vaguely concerns her on very bad days.

She pretends it’s normal to disregard your sexuality – after all, isn’t that what heterosexual people do? – and goes back to scrolling down her timeline like the masochist she’s turned into, a bittersweet mix of being happy for Lauren and being irreparably annoyed at her.

When she finally sends out a _‘Bravo **@LaurenJauregui** so proud of you’_ , she lies, she lies, she lies.

 

*

 

_it’s too bad you had to have a better half / she's not really my type / but i think you two are forever / and i hate to say it, but you're perfect together_

 

There’s a diner right outside the area where the tour buses are parked and Camila is craving a banana shake like burning, so she makes a run for it when the choreographer gives them a 15-minute break. There’s nobody in line so she rushes to the counter, a beam on her face as she orders her personal elixir of life.

“Camila!” she hears someone call just as she gets her drink, a voice she recognizes despite not caring to. She turns around slowly, preparing a smile she struggles to mask as real, and spots Lucy at a table by the window, a laptop and books spread in front of her. “Come sit. Are you on break?”

“Yeah,” Camila answers, sliding down the other side of the booth. She folds both hands around the stem of the glass to stop them from fidgeting. Lucy’s always made her nervous.

The fact that she’s Lauren’s girlfriend now has only made that _worse_.

“Let’s say I didn’t see Lauren’s text,” Lucy jokes, with a wink and a toothy grin. “You okay?” she adds, tilting her head to the side and replacing the grin with a frown.

“Of course,” Camila says, a little too quickly, a bit too shakily. “Just tired.”

Lucy doesn’t seem to believe her, but to her credit, she doesn’t push it. Instead, she starts talking about the summer readings she has to do for college and the extra readings she added to that because she’s found this philosophical school of thought that she finds fascinating and she wants to learn about it as much as she can.

Camila just stares and listens, smiling and nodding in all the appropriate places, too aware of her heart breaking in pieces that are tinier and spikier than she ever thought possible.

Lucy is confident and witty and gorgeous and unbearably smart and Camila wants to hate her, but mostly she hates herself for all the ways she could never compare.

 

*

 

_it felt like you really knew me / now it feels like you see through me_

 

Going through with concerts has been hard lately. Their fans’ love is inspiring and pumps her up, but pretending everything is okay – maintaining the illusion that keeps them invested in a group of five girls brought together by circumstance who became the best of friends – is taking a toll on her already not very stable emotional and mental state.

Today is particularly difficult. Something is off about Lauren, her smiles never quite reaching her eyes, her attention scattered and unfocused. Even after all this time, Camila is still hyper-aware of Lauren, of her movements and her moods, and so her heart inevitably shrinks in her chest when Lauren starts crying during _No Way_ , her part taken over by the screaming audience.

Camila’s instinct is to go to Lauren and hold her in her arms, but she can’t do that and, seeing that Normani is approaching to offer support, she takes a deep breath and walks to the edge of the stage, sticking to whatever passes as _No Way_ ’s choreography.

When the song finally, finally ends, she returns to the stage’s staircase, halting close to where Lauren is sitting.

“You okay?” she mouths, fingers itching to touch her.

Lauren looks up, her eyes shining with the familiar glow that Camila _knows_ only tears give them, and nods just once, averting her gaze right after as if that mere gesture had burned her.

It feels like a knife stabbing every place in Camila’s body that had once been touched by Lauren and she recoils, stepping to the side and as far away from her as possible.

She hadn’t expected to lose her best friend, their banter and their comfort, in the process of falling out of love.

(she never knew you could miss a person you see every day.)

 

*

 

_why did you leave me here to burn? / i’m way too young to be this hurt / i feel doomed in hotel rooms staring straight up at the wall / counting wounds and i am trying to numb them all / do you care? do you care?_

 

On a subconscious level, Camila knew Lucy was coming with them. It’s hard not to when the girl was sitting two rows behind her on their flight to London to promote _7/27_. On a more conscious level, it took seeing Lucy going up the stairs of the hotel entrance with Nala under her arm for Camila to get it.

A love so serious they’re travelling together, risking the watchful public eye offering opinions and speculation. A love so serious Camila’s unlocked doors have remained shut.

That night, she listens to them talking and laughing, sounds of joy and intimacy she’s started to forget how to make, her eyes stubbornly focused on the wall of their adjacent rooms. It doesn’t take long for those sounds to become _something else_ and it’s only then that Camila stands up, in a fit of bitterness and hatred, and locks herself in the bathroom.

Pain is an excellent conductor of art, they say.

It better fucking be, she thinks, desperately trying to match music notes to lyrics she would pay to never have felt the need to write.

 

*

 

_if you don’t need me / just let me go_

 

“Kaki!” Sofi shouts, excitement interwoven through every syllable as she runs up the stairs. “Lauren is here!”

Camila frowns, setting down the book she’d been trying too hard to read on the bed, but Lauren is standing by the bedroom door before she has time to recover from the surprise.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, standing up too suddenly, like she’s been caught red-handed.

(is it too much to dream Lauren is here because she misses her?)

“I saw the leak.”

Camila scoffs, fists clenching so the pain of her nails digging her palms prevents the tears from coming. “You took the time to come to my house, during our vacations, to come yell at me because of _my_ privacy being invaded?! After shutting me out of your life for months?!”

Lauren closes the door behind her and leans against it. There’s an indecisive kind of scowl on her face, flickering from confused to angry and settling on disbelief.

“I just…” she tries to say, her tone low and lost, eyes locking with Camila’s. “The N-word?”

Camila wishes – oh, how Camila wishes – that she could be calm and collected for this. But Lauren had pretty much been ignoring her since the start of her relationship with Lucy, and _this_ is what she chooses as a reason to break the silence?

_Fuck_ being calm and collected.

“I was 15!” she shouts, one fist uncurling so her hand is loose and wild in the space between them. “I’m sorry I didn’t come out of the womb woke and illuminated like Jesus fucking Christ! I was born and raised among Latinos and you _know_ how insidious racism can be in our community!”

Lauren winces, dropping her gaze to the floor.

“I was wrong, I made a mistake – I made lots of mistakes, as you can probably tell from living with me for almost four years and going through a leak you had no right to see!” She crosses her arms, trying to rein in her irritation without much success. “What’s next? You’re gonna scold me for insulting Ally? You’re gonna talk to me from your high and mighty Lauren throne and pretend you never trash-talked any of us in texts with your friends? Pretend you never trash-talked _me_?”

“Ok, I have to give you that one, but you were just so _mean_ about all of it,” Lauren whines after a beat.

Camila huffs, not believing what she’s hearing. “Oh, like you’re so full of grace when you go on rants on Twitter?”

Lauren looks like she’s about to retaliate but she thinks better of it. “I have no business being here, do I?” she asks instead, a flash of recognition sparking the amber specks of her eyes.

“You do not, Lauren. I have heard more than enough from Roger and Epic, I don’t need you to rub more salt in the wound.” Camila sighs, defensive posture deflating. “Why are you here?”

Lauren averts her eyes, bottom lip disappearing behind white, nervous teeth.

“It’s because of Michael, isn’t it?”

Lauren nods.

“You didn’t know?”

Lauren nods again.

“Guess you were too busy prancing around with Lucy to notice,” she can’t help but jab. “It’s over already anyway.” There’s an awkward minute of silence where they study each other like the almost lovers they once were and Camila feels young and naïve like she did then – for just a fleeting moment. ”Why can’t you let anyone want me?”

_Not even you_ , she doesn’t say.

Lauren looks startled by the question, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “This is stupid. I should go.”

“You should,” Camila agrees. “Be grateful I stopped breathing even a word about us on my phone or you’d be haunted by ‘camren is real’ until the end of your days,” she adds spitefully to her retreating back.

The way Lauren flinches and freezes claws at something inside her chest; a whimsical longing, or a flimsy hope perhaps.

“Bye, Camila.”

 

*

 

_the only thing that makes you grow / is to dive into the sweet unknown / the only thing that breaks your bones / is when you don't know where it hurts the most_

 

Dinah catches up to her in the lobby as Camila stares undecidedly at the watercooler, plastic cup in hand.

“Don’t take the cold one,” Dinah says, grabbing her wrist to place it under the right tap and pushing the button for her. “You were still coughing yesterday.”

Camila smiles, watching as her friend pours herself a cup.

“Are you scared?” Dinah asks.

“A little,” Camila admits around a shrug. “But this is what’s best for me.”

“What about what’s best for us?”

“Dinah,” she sighs, moving to sit on one of the chairs in the reception area of Epic’s office building. “They just throw songs at us and don’t let us be anything but puppets. I want more than this.”

“You didn’t seem to feel so strongly about it in the summer.” Dinah rolls her eyes, taking a seat next to her. In the distance, they can hear the voices of Lauren and Normani still arguing with one of the lawyers.

“That was before.”

“Before Lucy?”

“Yeah.”

Dinah shakes her head, her breaths slow and deliberate. “I get that,” she says at last, placing a hand on Camila’s knee. “It’s just… You and Lauren are everyone’s favorites, you’ll be fine. But what about Mani and Ally? What about me?” She wipes at her eye with the side of her finger, always too conscious of ruining her make-up. “Who am I without Fifth Harmony?”

Camila’s heart cracks and she wraps an arm around Dinah’s waist, resting her head on her shoulder. “We’re gonna have to find out.”

 

*

 

_all the ghosts / they float, float around us / how they turned all our dreams into dust_

 

Shawn Mendes is a sweet guy and they get along great from the moment they’re introduced by their managers. He has a song half-written that he plays for her on his guitar, his scratchy voice causing her to smile, and it isn’t long before she is doing runs to go along with his verses.

The song is finished in less than a month and she forgets to tell her bandmates about it until there’s only two weeks left from release date. She doesn’t do it on purpose. Between her fallout with Normani, her non-existing relationship with Ally and the pain even hearing Lauren’s name instills in her, all that she has left is Dinah and she’d been so excited to be part of the creative process for once that informing her had slipped her mind.

Unsurprisingly, her actions cause a rift in the band. What does surprise her is how she can’t be bothered to care. She’d dreamed of making music with Lauren, of words and melodies representing the best of them coming together to blow the world away, but that had turned out to be nothing but smoke and mirrors.

If she can’t have her dreams of love, she’ll dream of her own Art being out there impacting the world.

She needs only herself for that.

 

*

 

_i’m up going through crazy shit i did for you / in my mind, in my head / seeing all the words i’ve said_

 

“I can’t, I can’t, I can’t,” Camila repeats under her breath, pacing back and forth in the hotel room.

“Mija, estás asustándome,” Sinu says, watching her from where she’s seated on the edge of the bed. “Ven acá,” she commands, extending her hand. “Habla conmigo.”

Camila scowls at her mother but accepts the extended hand that pulls her until she too is sat on the bed.

“Three years, mami! Tres años of waiting around in the shadows, of being patient and giving her all my heart while putting up with her crap–” She pauses, takes a deep breath. “Tres años pensando que ella estaba lideando con su sexualidad, pensando que necesitaba tiempo y espacio, and now she has a girlfriend that she introduces to everybody?!”

Sinu winces, sneaking an arm around her ribs to bring her closer.

“What did I do wrong? What does she have that I don’t have?! ¿Es porque es más alta? Because she smokes weed and I don’t? Is it the husky voice?” Camila grips her mom’s leg, digging her fingers in so deep she shakes it against her will. _“What is it?!”_

“No creo que el problema seas tú o incluso la Lucía, ni siquiera Lauren. La gente ama a quien ama, no es algo que se pueda elegir,” Sinu tells her, hand rubbing up and down her back. “Maybe… Maybe it's time we accepted that Lauren never had it in her to love you back as you deserve to be loved.”

Camila stares at her mother for a long moment, biting her bottom lip impossibly hard because she doesn’t want to cry, not again, not anymore. But the tears win the fight and she hugs Sinu in a mess of whimpers and hiccups and broken sobs. “I can’t, mami. I can’t do this anymore. Get me out of here.” She cries and cries and cries some more, echoing the same words like a prayer, “Get me out of here. Please, please, get me out of here.”

“Hay un manager que me abordó, interesado en representarte,” Sinu eventually says, when Camila’s pain quietens down to drained, hopeless breaths. She squeezes her daughter, the tiniest bit tighter. “I’ll call him to schedule an appointment.”

 

*

 

_her green eyes blew goodbyes / with her head in her hands / and her kiss on the lips of another_

 

It’s a day much like any other early Fall day. The sun is shining, the clouds in the sky not enough to threaten its warm golden light. It’s not too hot though, there’s a cool breeze making sure everyone is out with light jackets on. It has all the elements of a promising day, people roam about with a skip in their step and almost smiles on their faces.

It’s a day Camila wakes up happy, engaging in an endless banter with Dinah as soon as the other girl leaves her bunk.

It’s the day everything changes.

They’re on lunch break, using that precious time to rest as horizontally as possible, when Lauren enters the tour bus, pulling an embarrassed Lucy along with her.

“Hey, guys!” she calls out, watching as four heads pop up from different spots. “Can you come here, please?”

The girls all gather in the lounge area, with varying expressions of interest. Camila leans against the table, her arms crossed to fight off how on edge she’s feeling due to Lucy’s presence.

“What up, Ralph?” Dinah prompts, to Ally’s excited nod and Normani’s head tilt.

Lauren takes a deep breath, exchanging a meaningful glance with Lucy before exhaling, “Lucy and I are dating.”

Camila’s heart freezes inside her chest and a weak “What?” leaves her lips without her consent.

But Lauren doesn’t look at her. She focuses all her attention on the rest of the girls, she hugs them and laughs with them as she receives their congratulations, and somehow manages to avoid Camila the entire time without raising suspicions.

Staring in disbelief at Lucy’s soft blush and Lauren’s overjoyed beam, Camila physically _feels_ her heart shattering into a million different pieces – one for each illusion, for each moment of hope, for each time she’d told herself all Lauren needed was for her to wait just a little bit longer.

Something inside her snaps.

 

*

 

_your silence echoes in my ears / i guess you’re just oblivious / to all this love that still roars and sears_

 

Lauren seems happier these days. She’s actually making an effort during rehearsals, instead of slacking off the choreographies despite being a great dancer. She’s always joking around with Dinah and she’s generous in the hugs she distributes to them all, and their team too.

At night, whether they’re staying at a hotel or in their tour buses, she looks for Camila and they stay up talking for hours. Just talking, nothing else happens. It’s like in the very beginning, when they couldn’t stay away from each other.

It makes Camila feel happy, but she’s wary too. She loves Lauren’s attention, loves basking in it, loves returning the attention and see Lauren blush and smile her soft smiles. She loves feeling close to her, loves getting to know this older, more grown-up version of Lauren, who’s a bit jaded but still hopeful for positive changes.

They talk and whisper and Camila’s eyes shine with wonder and possibility. She wants nothing but to kiss Lauren senseless, to kiss her until she breathes all the air from Lauren’s lungs, and to make love to her until Lauren arches her back, and to bury her head between Lauren’s legs until she screams _‘Camila!’_ in a broken, spent moan that runs like a shiver down her back.

Yes, Lauren’s happiness brings joy and giddiness to Camila, but she can’t shake off the sensation that this is just the calm before the storm, that she should hold on to each moment as if it was the last. She can’t help thinking she’s not seeing the whole picture, not yet.

Why else would Lauren give her so much attention but not give her the validation she’s been craving for so long?

 

*

 

_‘cause i can't take any more of this / i want to come apart / and dig myself a little hole / inside your precious heart_

 

It’s a recurring scene. Camila in her bunk bed reading a book, earbuds in as her phone plays a Taylor Swift album, with an all too American landscape she would fail to describe moving along with the bus outside her window.

Lauren’s visits are recurring too, curtains opening and closing faster than lightening until the girl is wrapped around her with a giggle and a kiss on the neck. She always steals one of Camila’s earbuds and they stay silent for long minutes, Lauren tracing goosebump-inducing shapes on the skin of her tummy, Camila reading the same sentence again and again.

They belt out the climax of _All Too Well_ and turn to each other with shy, satisfied smiles, impossibly close in the twin-size bed.

Lauren’s face is marred by two pimples, one almost healed on the curve of her jaw, the other far from it in the center of her cheek. Camila watches her in awe, her drowsy eyes that glow with the sunlight, the widow’s peak in revolt because her hair is greasy from the shower she hasn’t taken yet.

She’s the most beautiful girl in the world like this, open and imperfect, and when she leans in, Camila’s breath catches until Lauren’s lips are on hers and Camila can taste warmth and sleep and fondness, so softly she sighs into the kiss.

It’s exhilarating and it envelops her like a far-too-big sweater and for a moment she forgets she’d promised herself she would ask for what she deserves.

“I can’t, Lauren,” she whispers, pulling away into empty air that they inhale together, foreheads joined. “I can’t keep being your in-between.” She moves her head backwards so she can stare into the eyes of the girl she’s been in love with for almost three years. “I want to be your all the time.”

Lauren furrows her brows, the same old fear flashing like a warning in her gaze, and Camila smiles despite herself when _Sad Beautiful Tragic_ starts playing.

They lay together for hours, no words left to say, hands gentle and platonic in their strokes.

 

*

 

_don’t fool yourself / she was heartbreak from the moment that you met her_

 

“You need to stop doing that,” Normani says, and Camila has the distinct impression she shouldn’t be listening to this conversation but she’d forgotten her phone at the rehearsal studio.

“Do what?” Lauren asks, between audible gulps of water.

Camila halts behind the door, not daring to interrupt.

“Stringing Camila along,” Normani deadpans, and Camila can picture her perfectly: right hand on her hip, an already-too-done-for-this-conversation eye roll.

“Mind your own damn business, Mani.”

“I’m serious, Lauren. Either be friends or be something else. This game of running to her whenever you’re unhappy with your love life and cutting her out when everything’s fine is getting old.”

“Camila knows perfectly well that what we have isn’t serious,” Lauren snaps, and Camila cringes from her hiding place. “It’s just two friends hooking up sometimes, it’s not meant to be complicated.”

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“C’mon, you have to be blind not to see the hearts spilling out of her eyes whenever you’re around. You got that girl wrapped around your finger and you act like you’re both playing the same game.”

“She can make her own decisions and I _never_ , not _once_ , implied or promised her we’d be more than just whatever we are now!”

Camila leaves then, lungs heavy like lead, mind and heart at odds with each other in dissonance, her heart full of love, her mind filled with doubts.

She was so sure it was just a matter of time, but now she isn’t anymore. Maybe it’s time to follow Dinah’s advice. Maybe it’s finally time for her to talk to Lauren and get to set some terms too.

 

*

 

_i can feel you on my lips all the time / but i just wanna feel you in my heart and on my mind_

 

Camila is going through endless interview and meet&greet photos from her fans, trying to find some of her and Lauren that are somehow both decent and innocent enough. There’s no way she’d post any of the selfies of them she has on her phone; Lauren would kill her, or at least go on a half hour rant that would leave everyone annoyed and exhausted. After some mindless browsing, she picks a few pictures and puts together a half-assed montage. It’s not like she ever claimed to be any good at creating visual art and she plans to make up for that with the birthday text anyway.

Lauren is out with her Miami friends who’d been spending their summer on a road trip and drove all the way to Hershey to spend the day with her. Camila had been invited, but she’d politely declined, wanting to give privacy to the group. She doesn’t feel very comfortable around Lauren’s friends anyway, who are all super pretty and super smart and super into teasing her to see her blushing and call her adorable. The fact that Lucy had come too – after a year or so of not really being in Lauren’s radar – had been the final push for Camila to decide to stay behind.

She takes a deep breath and starts typing. She would love nothing more than to pour her heart out, but not-so-secret feelings are meant to be kept in check and not exposed. And so she talks about what she likes about Lauren and what she likes about the two of them together. She throws in a line about the overwhelming underwhelmingness of boys that break their hearts to distract herself from the overwhelming overwhelmingness of what kissing Lauren does to her.

It really is true, something in her always knew, something in her was drawn to Lauren since the very first moment.

She hopes Lauren knows too.

 

*

 

_there is nothing in the world that we can count on / even that we will wake up is an assumption / come back to bed, my darling_

 

All the lights are off, but the room isn’t dark. Camila lies naked on the bed, eyes droopy with sleep, watching Lauren as she’s sat on the windowsill. She is naked too, one foot carelessly set on the armchair for support, and the cigarette in her hand burns alone rather than on her lips.

The city lights are giving her a golden glow that makes her seem almost unreal, as if an ethereal creature had accidentally landed in a random L.A. bedroom.

“Do you think we’ll ever be more than this?”

Camila sighs, her gaze traveling across the sheets of paper with lyrics scattered everywhere. “We already are more than this, they just won’t let us show it.”

“I want to write my own songs and dance when I feel like it,” Lauren whispers, blowing the smoke away in slow, structured waves. “I want to express myself as I am and not as a constructed product.”

“Fifth Harmony is a step in the right direction.” Camila shifts so she’s lying on her side, and a gust of wind prickles at her skin and caresses her nipples. “It’s doors closed but not locked, and windows we can climb through.”

Lauren looks at her then, putting away the cigarette. Her eyes are bright with unshed tears and Camila extends her hand, too lazy to get up, too loving to not want her near.

“At least we have each other.”

Camila nods, letting Lauren adjust to her body before draping an arm around her waist and pulling her closer. “At least we have each other.”

 

*

 

_it hurts it hurts it hurts / (your best friend is not your girlfriend)_

_“I don’t wanna be friends / I don’t wanna be friends,”_ Camila sings into a bottle of water as she performs in the empty common area. _“Want your bad romance!”_

“What’s this bopping to Lady Gaga like it’s 2010, Chancho?” Dinah asks, pulling one of her earbuds out.

Camila jumps, hands to heart, and laughs as she spots her bandmate with a random magazine open in the horoscope page.

“ _Bad Romance_ is a timeless song,” she declares, very seriously.

“Also very appropriate in your case.” Dinah steals the improvised microphone away from her and sets it on the counter. “I was seeing here,” she starts, hitting Camila on the forehead with the rolled-up magazine, “that Pisces love suffering.”

“I don’t believe in astrology.”

“Well, you should, because you couldn’t be more Pisces if you took a crash course at Trump University.”

Camila scrunches up her nose, a bit disturbed by that particular visual. “Your point?”

“Look, I love you, I love Lauser, I _was_ the proud captain of the SS Camren…” She plops down on the couch in a rather dramatic fashion. “But it’s just not fun anymore.”

“Always nice when your love life is the source of others’ entertainment,” Camila deadpans.

“Welcome to that glamorous celebrity life,” Dinah claps back, more insightful than her usual, carefully practiced cluelessness. “What I’m trying to get at here is that Lauren loves you very much and you love Lauren like, a _lot_.” Camila furrows her brows and Dinah takes the opportunity to pull her onto her lap. “And you’re both dumbasses circling around each other and not saying what you truly want.”

“It’s complicated.”

“No, it isn’t. You’re just scared– don’t you roll your eyes at me, young lady!” Dinah pokes her in the ribs and Camila snickers, twisting around to escape. “Look, just talk to her, tell her how you really feel. If she can’t or won’t give you what you want, then at least you’ll be free.”

“She knows,” Camila says weakly, a half-smile tweaking her lips upwards on the same side of her half-shrug. “She just needs time.”

Dinah raises one very doubtful eyebrow and releases a deep sigh after a long moment of silence. “Just talk to her, Camila. Love yourself more than you love her for once.”

 

*

 

_i'm thinking it over / the way you make me feel all sexy but it's causing me shame_

 

Lauren’s lips taste of weed and alcohol as she stumbles into Camila’s bunk, shoes carelessly thrown to the floor before she settles on top of the other girl.

“Fuck, Camz,” she breathes out, in between bites and frantic tugs at clothes she wants gone. “I needed this so bad, you don’t understand.”

Camila really doesn’t. She’d been on the verge of sleep when she heard Lauren get back to the tour bus and this late night visit, while not unexpected, is quite surprising. Lauren craving her company in the middle of the night isn’t new. Lauren craving _her_ , her body, her touch, with such abandonment, such relentless urgency? That’s a special event.

It doesn’t take long for her to feel fully in the moment. It takes even less for her to feel powerful and sensual, teasing Lauren in all the ways she knows drive her crazy, breathing dirty things into her ear and digging her nails into the curve of Lauren’s ass.

She comes first, teeth buried in her own forearm to keep the moans from coming out too loud, because Lauren had moved down to eat her out. Lauren doesn’t stop though. She licks and pulls and slurps, endlessly ravenous, and Camila comes again, so hard she thinks she might pass out.

“Do me now?” Lauren asks a few minutes later, biting her bottom lip with one eyebrow lifted, squeezed in between her and the wall already. Camila hadn’t even noticed her moving, but she complies with the request, pumping two fingers in and out at a fast pace until Lauren squeaks out a muffled moan.

They lie side by side, regaining their breaths, feeling their heartbeats slow down under each other’s fingertips.

Camila smiles, body relaxed and spent, but then Lauren shuffles and skims over her, sitting on the edge of the bed without bothering to collect her clothes.

“That was awesome,” she compliments, a self-satisfied grin only people who are high can truly pull off on her face. “Sleep tight, babe.”

She stumbles out of the bunk much the same way she’d stumbled into it, sloppy and reckless, and the noise of her bunk’s curtain opening sounds raucous and cruel in the silence of the dark.

Camila tries very, very hard not to feel alone, not to feel used and discarded as she curls up in fetal position, surrounded by Lauren’s scent and everything she had left behind.

(she fails.)

 

*

 

_kiss me, i’m dying / put your hands on my skin_

 

Award shows went from being exciting to being just another thing they have to do to follow Epic’s guidelines and to promote themselves. Some are better than others and the KCAs, as much as they all love children, really aren’t the most interesting event one can attend.

Camila’s been bored for one hour now and the show hasn’t even moved on to the music categories yet. Miraculously, Lauren had been okay with sitting next to her so she can make jokes about the whole thing. Unfortunately, sitting next to Lauren now that she’s single and they’ve been having sex on the regular is a heavy, unfair task on her hormones.

“Laur,” she drawls in her bedroom voice, warm breath invading Lauren’s cheek, “I really, _really_ want to get on my knees and eat your pussy to the last… possible…” she licks the shell of her ear, “…drop.”

To anyone else, it would seem like Lauren doesn’t react, but Camila knows her too well, she’s too in tune with Lauren’s every sound and movement, she’s too in touch with Lauren’s rejections and concessions. There’s a sharp intake of breath and the hand between both their bodies curls up in a fist.

It’s exactly the reaction Camila had been hoping for.

She studies the side of Lauren’s face, the eyes, the lips. Then, she leans in again, “Meet me in the bathroom?”

Lauren nods, just once.

They return to their seats right on time for the announcement of the category Fifth Harmony’s been nominated for, and Camila takes great pleasure in how Lauren’s walk isn’t quite as elegant as usual.

 

*

 

_got a secret / can you keep it? / swear this one you'll save_

 

Running after a fan to recover Lauren’s phone isn’t something Camila had planned to do with her day, but here she is, running in uncomfortable high-heels because that’s what the stylist had stuck her into that day.

“Hey!” she shouts, grabbing the girl’s arm and forcing her to stop. “You can’t do that!”

Of course there’s now a small group of people surrounding them, witnessing every single word exchanged and probably ready to spread it to the world, so Camila needs to be careful.

“That’s not your phone,” she says, snatching it from the girl’s hand. “Stealing _is_ wrong, you know?”

The fan goes on a long-winded explanation about how she planned to return it and she just wanted an excuse to approach Lauren, and about how she didn’t mean any harm and had no intentions of invading her privacy. Camila can’t quite control her face as she listens to, well, all the bullshit the girl is spewing, and she politely waits for her to finish before sending her on her way and return to the band. There are other fans claiming her attention now though, so she makes an effort to tend to them all, despite her anxious need to make sure everything is fine with Lauren’s phone.

Maybe it’s a bit reckless on her part considering how alone she _isn’t_ , but she can’t wait any longer and thus she does just that: she punches in the password to unlock Lauren’s phone and quickly checks a few apps to see if nothing out of the ordinary had been sent to an unknown number or, worse, the internet. She’s vaguely aware of fans taking pictures of her as she’s on it, but there are more pressing matters at hand.

They really need to start deleting every single conversation they have online in case something like this happens again. There are way too many secrets lying in waiting that they can’t have anyone finding out.

 

*

 

_i think she broke up with her boyfriend again / but i don’t really care_

 

Camila doesn’t think Lauren’s thing with Brad is as serious as her relationship with Luis had been. She already had that impression, from how often Lauren would prefer to hang out with the girls instead of with her so-called boyfriend, and that had been further solidified by how easily Lauren, well, cheated on him. For the entire run of their relationship, Camila and Lauren would end up in a heavy make out session at least once a week, not to mention the amount of times those turned into sex.

She doesn’t understand what Lauren is doing with him. She never understood why they even started either, and so she dreams of Lauren trying to repress her feelings by throwing herself at a boy, and hopes she’ll eventually allow herself to love her back. Lauren isn’t exactly subtle in her affections – regardless of how aware she is of them – and Camila is quite sure Brad hates her, though that really isn’t her problem. He could write about it in a song, for all she cares.

It comes as no surprise when they finally break up. Lauren shares the news with a shrug and a sarcastic remark, so Camila knows she isn’t all that sad about the split.

What _does_ upset Lauren is how, a few weeks later, The Vamps decide to go on a slut-shaming campaign against her.

“When I’m done with their scrawny white asses, The Vamps will be cancelled forever,” Dinah snarls, as Normani and Ally are typing furiously on their phones.

They all show Lauren their support on Twitter and smother her in hugs in real life until she and Camila are the only ones left in the bus lounge.

“You know they’re just stupid boys who can’t understand when girls don’t fall at their unimpressive feet, right?” Camila nudges, squeezing her shoulder for comfort. Lauren smiles and nods. “Do you need anything, Laur? I want to make you feel better.”

“Could you sleep with me tonight?” she asks, leaning against her. “I just want someone to hold me.”

Camila is more than happy to comply.

 

*

 

_there's always static on TV in this hotel room / reminds me of all the things you think i don't understand_

 

“You’re going out on a date? With _him_?!” Lauren scoffs, crossing her arms. Camila watches her in the reflection, not daring to move while Dinah is fixing her hair. “He can’t even say your name right!”

“What’s so wrong about him?” Camila asks, with a shrug. “At least he wants me.” Lauren shudders at that and she feels bad for a moment. Only for a moment though; she can’t forget how Lauren is the main reason she’s decided to try to feel something else.

“Whatever.” Lauren rolls her eyes and leaves the room as fast as she’d appeared.

Dinah doesn’t comment on what she’d just witnessed and Camila leaves for a date that is average in all possible ways – the company, the movie they watch, the conversations, the food they eat. The kisses at the end. It’s not _bad_ per se, just surrounded by a lull of disappointment that buzzes around in her head.

She can’t say she’s surprised when she returns to her eternally unlocked room to find Lauren still awake waiting for her. She’s not surprised when they end up having sex either – angry and hungry and demanding.

“You’re too good for him,” Lauren whispers in her ear once they’re done, holding her too tight for it to be comfortable.

“Not good enough for you,” Camila replies in a secret after Lauren drifts off to sleep.

A couple of months after, she ends the half real, half fake, definitely zero compelling thing she has with Austin anyway.

 

*

 

_and she leaves / with someone you don’t know / but she makes sure you see her / she looks right at you and bolts_

 

It shouldn’t be a surprise, but it is.

(of course it is.)

They’re all hanging out with Austin and The Vamps, having fun, enjoying their free time after the concert. There’s some alcohol involved – Dinah’s a little tipsy, Lauren is way past that – and everyone is amping up the flirting levels like it’s their business.

Camila is talking to Austin since that’s what everyone expects of her, but her attention is on Lauren. Lauren and her white dress, Lauren and her smokey green eyes, Lauren and her hair that she keeps parting from one side to the other as she laughs at everything stupid Brad says.

Lauren and the way she doesn’t know she has Camila’s heart in her hands.

How masochistic, Camila thinks, it is to love Lauren. What an utterly strenuous exercise in masochism and self-indulgence.

Lauren looks around at that very moment, their unexplainable synchrony working against Camila’s sanity, and doesn’t stop until she meets her gaze. As if it means something, like Camila wishes it did but suspects it doesn’t.

It’s a passing, fleeting moment, one where Camila’s heart shrivels under the hopes crushed by Lauren’s clinical, scared eyes, and then she’s pulling Brad out of the room and the boys are making whistling and whooping noises while the girls shout variations of “You go, Lauren!”.

Camila stays quiet and hides her shaking hands between her legs. Austin keeps talking, oblivious to everything that had just occurred, and she smiles weakly at him. He’s cute and he seems to think she’s cute. Maybe it wouldn’t be the worst idea in the world to give him a chance.

After all, what’s another green-eyed disappointment?

 

*

 

_you sang me spanish lullabies / the sweetest sadness in your eyes_

 

“Me gustan tus ojos.”

Camila blushes, and tries her best not to look away in spite of Lauren’s attentive stare.

“¿Tienen una luz, sabes?” Lauren continues, hand escaping the covers to brush over Camila’s eyebrow. “Un brillo especial. Como si tu alma se reflejara por fuera.”

"Me gustan los tuyos también,” Camila says, endeared as she always is by Lauren’s cute accent. The sun is setting outside, casting an orange and pink-tinged light on their naked bodies. “Me gusta cómo cambian de color según la luz y cómo expresan tanto sin que tú digas nada.” She tickles the corner of Lauren’s right eye, making her laugh. “Y me encanta cómo casi desaparecen cuando te ríes.”

It’s Lauren’s turn to blush and she hides her face in the pillow with a prolonged, whiny “no” that has Camila giggling.

“Learn to take a compliment, Lauren,” she teases, exaggerating the pronunciation of her name on purpose. “Tienes una sonrisa linda sí, con los ojos pequeños y los dientitos de conejo y todo.” She sticks her tongue out and Lauren pushes her away playfully, though she shifts closer not a second after to leave a clumsy kiss on her lips.

There’s a long moment of silence, where they just study each other quietly, with soft smiles and twinkling eyes. “You’re so good to me, Camz. Thank you.”

Camila shakes her head and pulls her into a hug, pecking her face and her hair with annoying kissing noises until they both dissolve in a fit of laughter.

It’s not like she even knew how to be anything but _good_ to Lauren.

 

*

 

_underneath the starlight, starlight / there's a magical feeling, so right / i'll steal your heart tonight_

 

They’re in the dressing room after their concert in San Juan when Dinah approaches, wrapping her arms around the shoulders of both Lauren and Camila. “Let’s do something crazy.”

“No drinking!” Lauren declares, escaping Dinah’s grasp. “I swear I’m still hungover from last night.”

“Me? Suggesting a plan with alcohol?” Dinah asks, fingers of her free hand splayed on her chest in fake shock. “The offense!”

Camila snorts, elbowing her on the side. “C’mon, Cheechee. Just tell us what’s on your mind.”

Dinah inhales sharply and makes a whole show of trying to appear very serious and very focused, until, “Skinny dipping.”

Lauren starts laughing hysterically and Camila just blinks at Dinah, unsure what to do with what she’d just heard.

“You’re serious?!” Lauren asks, breathing still erratic from laughter.

“When am I ever not?” Dinah replies, calmly. “Anyways, this wasn’t an invitation. Already bribed Jenna to drive the rental car and come bodyguard us. Meet you two in the lobby at 11:30 PM.” And with that, she just power-walks away, leaving Camila and Lauren dumbfounded and staring after her.

That’s how they find themselves in some Puerto Rican beach they wouldn’t know how to name even if their lives depended on it. It’s small and isolated, the only light reaching them being the one from the stars and the gibbous waning moon. There’s an electric feeling in the air, the sort you feel when you just know that, whatever is about to happen, you’ll never forget it until your dying breath.

They stop side by side a few feet before the sea, with Dinah in the middle, and Camila hears her take a deep breath before she yells, “Race you there!”

And suddenly they’re taking off their clothes in a rush, giggling like little girls and running to the water with awkward, uncoordinated movements.

“That’s not fair, Dinah!” Lauren shouts, splashing her in full force. “You got a head start!”

“Shut up and accept your defeat, Lauser!” She tackles Lauren and keeps her underwater for a few seconds. “I hope the water feels really nice in your free-from-chains tits.”

Camila, as the last one in the water, is watching them from a safe distance, and waits for them to stop fighting to approach.

(she will get wet when and how she wants, thanks.)

By then, Dinah and Lauren are just making fun of her and her slowpoke pace and so Camila gets annoyed and charges at Lauren, wrapping herself around her back in piggyback position.

“They’re lesbians,” Dinah jokes, in a faux-scandalized tone. “They’re lesbianing together.”

Camila tenses for a second, afraid of how Lauren will react, but she’s too happy, they’re all too happy for anything outside of their happy little bubble to affect them.

Lauren just laughs, kissing her on the cheek and squeezing her thighs. “Let’s get Dinah, two-to-one?”

“Who’s playing it unfair now?” Dinah yelps, running away in the opposite direction.

Camila beams, heart singing with pure joy, and the entire time she’s out there naked in the Atlantic Ocean, she keeps thinking of how good Lauren’s skin feels on hers.

She keeps thinking of how she wants to feel it, again and again, forever.

 

*

 

_we’ll remember tonight for the rest of our lives_

 

It’s the best night of Camila’s life.

(it still is.)

They’d gotten VIP tickets to see The 1975 in L.A. and Camila can’t handle herself with all the excitement coursing through her veins. When Ally disappears to God knows where to do God knows what once they get to the venue, she truly believes the universe is out to give her everything that she wants.

Paying attention to the concert proves harder than she’d expected. She’s loved The 1975 for so long and there’s nowhere else she’d rather be, but how can she pay attention when it’s so dark and all the songs she’s memorized long ago are so soothing to her and so filled with warm memories?

How can she pay attention when Lauren is standing right next to her?

All she feels and sees and hears is Lauren. The way her breath is heavier as she sings and there’s a hint of coconut in the smell of her hair, behind the scent of sweat and emotion that surrounds them. The way her eyes crinkle when the crowd reacts to what Matty says, the lines of her lips drawing the most awe-inspiring of smiles. The way her hands hold on to the handrail, fingers stretching and furling and gripping, like she wants to express so much more than she’s allowing herself to.

The worst part is when Lauren leans to whisper something in her ear and Camila shivers and sighs and grins back with her whole being.

That’s why Camila fidgets and turns and overall makes a fool of herself until Lauren takes a step closer and drops her hand between their bodies. No, it doesn’t mean anything but Camila doesn’t care, not when this inch of air between them has been feeling like the Great Wall of China all night and her heart is drumming wild with longing.

She pretends it’s an accident, but her pinky finds Lauren’s when _fallingforyou_ is playing, and if they stay still until the time comes to clap, it’s merely a coincidence.

(it really might be. Camila had fallen so long ago she’s lost track of all the things that have had meaning or that have meant nothing at all. she just _loves_.)

They go hand in hand down the corridor that leads to the band’s dressing room and spend a few minutes talking to them, taking pictures and getting their autographs. Ross is really nice and Matty a bit lost in his own head, and Camila is entirely taken with the whole experience, walking on air and dancing on clouds.

When they get to the label’s apartment, they’re still high on happiness and on the rush of the concert, an ecstatic kind of energy electrifying all their limbs. It’s only natural that they fall to bed entangled as one, the _IV_ EP playing in the background from Lauren’s phone.

What happens next is natural too. All items of clothing are tossed aside, one by one, and suddenly Camila is lying naked on the sheets, staring up at Lauren with adoration in her eyes. She’s dreamed of her first time before, but if it’s truly about to happen, then sometimes reality can be better than fantasy after all.

“Are you sure?” Lauren asks, tracing Camila’s face with the tips of her fingers as if she were too delicate to touch.

“Yes,” Camila breathes, “I want this.” She runs her nails up and down Lauren’s back, very softly, enjoying the sensation of the other girl shivering. “I want _you_.”

Lauren closes her eyes and buries her head in Camila’s shoulder, her body rocking against hers slowly, gently. Camila listens to her sigh, savors every single goosebump that her skin recreates in response, and hugs her with all the love that permeates any given moment they share.

“Last chance,” Lauren whispers in her ear, before kissing the spot under it with infinite tenderness, with endless patience, one two three times.

Camila laughs and flips them over so she’s on top, biting her lip seductively as she says, “Tell me what you want.”

Lauren just smirks.

(they love each other for hours, and Camila drowns and transcends in everything she had never known her body could feel.)

 

*

 

_i watched us as we changed / the feelings in my headspace rearranged / i want you more than i've wanted anyone / isn't that dangerous?_

 

Lauren doesn’t like being single, Camila has noticed. She had had that impression after Keaton, when Lauren had started harmlessly flirting with a myriad of boys – and their kissing sessions had become more frequent and also more heated.

It’s happening again now that she and Luis are no longer together, except there don’t seem to be any boys that Lauren is paying attention to, just Camila.

It fills her up with hope and warmth, and everything she sees, breathes, _dreams_ these days comes in shades of green and tones of husk. It feels so good to be seen and catered to for once.

“Ah hell nah!” Dinah interrupts her musings as Lauren arrives, late, to the dressing room. She stops, watching Lauren’s wide-eyed gaze and lopsided grin. “Lauren, are you drunk?”

She puts her forefinger and her thumb together, winking at Camila. “A little.”

“You’re a dumbass, Lauser,” Dinah declares, passing her a bottle of water. “Drink this and get some chewing gum.”

“It was just two beers,” Lauren says, chagrined, gulping down the water rather noisily. “I’ll be fine for the concert, don’t worry.”

“Oh, I’m not worried about the concert.” Dinah fixes her with a sharp glare, her arms crossed, and Camila is as confused by it as Lauren seems to be.

“What? The fans won’t notice anything, it’s not like I’m tripping over my own feet.”

Dinah rolls her eyes and grips them both by their wrists, pulling them out of the dressing room and into the hallway. “C’mon, Ally and Mani are already waiting for us.” Lauren giggles and frees herself from her grasp to try and drape herself all over Camila, but Dinah pushes her away gently and reasserts her position in the middle. “See, _that’s_ what I was worried about. No coming near Chancho when you’re under the influence or Imma have to show you these hands.”

Lauren looks very offended and Camila laughs, blowing her a kiss to calm her down. “Later,” she mouths, making Lauren smile from ear to ear as they both ignore Dinah’s rant, too engrossed on each other to care.

Sometimes, Camila really likes this thing of being in love.

 

*

 

_when you gonna make up your mind / when you gonna love you as much as i do_

 

“Camz?”

A little shake accompanies the call and Camila wakes up startled, scowling towards the distant light of a cell phone. “What time is it?”

“It’s almost three.”

Camila blinks, a heavy frown set on her face, and tries her best to focus on Lauren. It’s only then that she notices there are tears streaming down her face. “Lauren?” she asks, sitting up. “What’s wrong?”

“He broke up with me, Camz,” she says, voice failing. “We were talking on the phone and he said he didn’t want to wait to see me in person to do it.”

Camila pushes back her blanket and gets out of bed, pulling Lauren along with her to the lounge area and closing the door that accesses the sleeping hallway. They lie down on the couch, shuffling until they’re comfortable and facing each other.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“He said we’re always apart and he barely spends any time with me,” Lauren whimpers, rubbing her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt. “Fifth Harmony is ruining my life, Camz. I don’t get to go to school like all my friends, I’m not there when they need me… I won’t even be able to go to prom!” She huffs, staring straight at Camila with red, indignant eyes. “I don’t even like these songs! They’re so fake and preppy and immature, and why do I even have to dance?!” Camila sighs, one hand moving to draw circles on Lauren’s exposed hipbone. “I’m so tired of everything and everyone, I didn’t want it to be like this.”

“Baby, you have to think of the music you want as an endgame,” Camila soothes, kissing the tip of her nose. “We already achieved the impossible. We are here, we are part of an industry that rejects 99% of the artists desperate for a chance. It’s a lot easier to move once you’re inside than it is to get in. We just have to be patient.” She brushes Lauren’s hair away from her face. “Dreams require sacrifice.”

“He said he’s started to feel attracted to a boy.”

“What?”

“Luis said there’s a guy in one of his classes he’s feeling attracted to.” Her bottom lip is wobbly and she’s putting a lot of effort in not starting to cry all over again. It breaks Camila’s heart. “He said he feels there might be something there and he doesn’t want to cheat on me.”

“Oh wow,” she squeaks against her will, eyes widened. “I… didn’t see that coming.”

“What is wrong with me, Camz? Why doesn’t anyone want to love me? Who even am I?!” The tears are falling freely now, her nose is runny, and Camila still finds her the most beautiful girl in the world. Camila still wants nothing but to love her without fear. “I’m so lost…”

She shifts then, pulls Lauren flush against her until she’s sobbing into Camila’s shoulder, and she’s never held anyone so tightly in her life, whispers of “I love you I love you I love you” a constant stream of emotion drowning in Lauren’s hair.

“Don’t leave me, Camz. Please, _please_ don’t leave me.”

“I’m here, baby. I’ll never leave you. I love you.”

At the time, it felt like a promise she would keep.

(it still hurts that she didn’t.)

 

*

 

_lead me to your love and i / will follow you with my whole life_

 

“If you could live anywhere in the US,” Lauren starts, blowing smoke into the quiet night air, “where would it be?”

Camila crosses her arms and leans against the tour bus, watching her with curiosity. The smoking is new and she doesn’t have the courage to ask where Lauren had picked it up.

“Right here in New York,” she says, after the silence stretches for a comfortable, introspective minute. “I like how it feels so big and how there are so many people you can pretend you’re invisible because no one is paying attention anyway.”

Lauren smiles, throwing the cigarette butt to the ground to put it out with the tip of her boot before picking it back up. “Me too. Maybe we could move in together, explore the big city on our own, watch the sunrise by the Hudson, drink lattes in obscure coffee shops... I think I’d like that.”

“Why, with dear old me?” Camila teases, bumping her shoulder. “Not the boyfriend?”

“Pfft, I’m way too young for that, let’s not,” Lauren teases back, grabbing Camila’s hand to entwine their fingers. “Let’s go inside, it’s getting cold.”

Camila follows, as she always does when Lauren is leading, and they manage to watch an entire movie on Netflix before falling asleep in Lauren’s bunk bed.

 

*

 

_and how can i stand here with you and not be moved by you_

 

It’s been almost two years since Fifth Harmony started, but Camila still gets overly excited at concerts. It’s such a special energy, to be surrounded by girls you’ve come to love like sisters, facing hundreds of people chanting your names together. A portion of it is scripted – as she’s learned to be the truth about these things –, but they still manage to have genuine moments and let go of production instructions every now and then. Camila loves those parts, they fill her up with happiness and it takes a lot of self-control not to jump around and cling to each of her bandmates like a needy pet.

That’s probably why she gets distracted and ends up introducing Ally to the audience when it was her turn to introduce Lauren. She only realizes it when Ally starts speaking again, obviously sharing things about Lauren, and she has a small moment of panic, not quite understanding what had just happened. Dinah explains, Lauren confirms it and Camila ends up interrupting Ally to present Lauren herself.

She talks about her beautiful eyes and her even more beautiful mind and how she can always count on her for everything. She gets the crowd hyped for Lauren and really, there is a lot more she could say and do because Lauren’s been feeling so insecure lately and Camila just wants her to see how loved and important she is.

Lauren deserves only the best things in life and, as Camila hugs her after she’s done with her little speech and smiles her brightest, most loving smile, she hopes Lauren starts believing that too.

 

*

 

_all her torment and her pain / leaked through and covered me_

 

Something like this was to be expected, Camila just didn’t know when exactly it would happen. Lauren had started withdrawing from her in public contexts or when there were cameras around, but she hadn’t paid it much mind because they’ve remained as close as ever in private and that was what mattered the most to her.

She’d cringed a little when Lauren started going all “my boyfriend, yes, my boyfriend, Luis,” somewhat too persistently during the interview and the looks she’d exchanged with Dinah were enough proof that she wasn’t the only one feeling a wave of second-hand embarrassment.

“I am so tired of this bullshit, Camz,” Lauren is saying, now that they’re back in the lounge area of their tour bus and the other girls had already gone to bed. “Why can’t they respect my relationship?”

Camila winces, and grabs one of Lauren’s hands so she sits next to her on the couch instead of pacing back and forth. “Being a fan is… a very unique thing. You love this person so much and you want to support them in everything they do even if they never even know who you are. And somehow you want to see yourself represented in this person – or these people, whatever – so you start projecting ideas onto them.”

“But what is it about me?” Lauren asks, a tinge of desperation in her tone that pulls at Camila’s heartstrings. “Why do they look at me and think… I’m gay? I have a boyfriend!”

She seems so scared, so small, and she’s staring at her like Camila holds all the answers in the universe, so Camila swallows the _‘But bisexuals’_ retort she has on the tip of her tongue and hugs her instead. “I don’t know why they do that, but there’s nothing wrong with you, okay, Laur? You’re perfect.”

Lauren smiles – Camila can feel it on her skin – and squeezes her closer.

“Does it bother you, Camz?” She moves a few inches back to fix her with those hypnotizing green eyes of hers. “The camren thing? That there are people out there who have nothing better to do than to obsess about us?”

Camila shrugs, thinking that there are worse ways of developing a fandom than people dreaming about you in a torrid lesbian affair.

Then again, her feelings for Lauren are quite real so it would be hypocritical of her to be bothered by their fans.

“Don’t let it get to you,” she advises quietly, thumb drawing patterns on Lauren’s back. “They can say whatever they want, but you’re the only one who knows the truth. We can’t control what they say, only what we do.”

Lauren nods, drinking in her words as if they’re gospel, and rests her head on Camila’s shoulder, who feels oddly intimidated by the display of trust. It’s a most delicate thing, to have Lauren confide in her about a topic that makes her so uncomfortable, and Camila holds on to it for the treasure it is.

They end up falling asleep right there, and Camila doesn’t let go of Lauren until the next morning.

 

*

 

_every night my mind is running around her / and it's getting louder and louder and louder_

 

Lauren plops her feet down on Camila’s legs as she lies back on the tour bus’s couch, removing the bookmark from _Gone Girl_ and dropping it on her belly.

Camila hums in greeting, eyes not leaving the copy of _The Perks of Being a Wallflower_ she’d borrowed from her. She loves it because it has passages underlined and notes scribbled all over the margins, making her feel closer to Lauren, as if they’re sharing the experience.

For about an hour, they sit there in companionable silence, each lost in their respective universe, but all good things must come to an end. All too soon, Dinah Jane walks in with a UNO deck in her hand and a giggling Normani behind her.

“Alright, nerds!” She places the deck on the table and claps her hands. “Enough with all that boredom; the second most popular 5H ship is here to entertain y’all!”

Lauren throws a pillow in Dinah’s general direction and Camila sets her book down to glare at her friend. “Reading is _not_ boring! It’s way more interesting than spending all your time on social media!”

“What Camz said,” Lauren offers with a dismissive hand gesture, face still hidden in the pages she’s trying to concentrate on.

“Nuh-uh!” Dinah steps closer, takes the book away from her hands and sets it down, still open, next to the cards on the table. “None of that attitude! You already had your intellectual camren time, now it’s playtime!”

“Maybe you guys should be the ones having intellectual time,” Camila grunts, pushing Lauren’s legs off of her lap. “A little culture never hurt anyone, you know?”

“Whatever,” Normani says, sitting on the nearest chair. “It’s not like this bus is stopping anytime soon, you can read later.”

Camila sighs, exchanging a pointed look with Lauren. The others just don’t get it, they never have.

There’s a planet that’s just Lauren and Camila, and everyone else orbits around it.

 

*

 

_instead of stressed i lie here charmed / ‘cause there's nothing else to do / every me and every you_

 

Camila looks up from her MacBook, spooked by the creaking door, but smiles when she spots Lauren moving towards her.

They’re in L.A., in one of Epic’s apartments, and Camila’s gotten used to keeping her room unlocked. Just in case. For nights like this.

“Whatcha doing?” Lauren asks, snuggling up to her and kissing her naked shoulder.

“Meeting Ariana today made me miss _Victorious_ ,” she replies, pressing play after leaving a peck on Lauren’s cheek.

“You two got along great, and hella fast too.” From the corner of her eyes, Camila can see Lauren pursing her lips. “She was all over you the entire time.”

“Don’t be jealous, Laur,” Camila teases, elbowing her. “You’re number one in my heart.”

“I’m not jealous.”

“Sure.”

“I’m not!”

“Shut up, this is the episode where Jade and Tori go on a date and you’re distracting me.”

“Go on a date?” Lauren scoots even closer, staring at the screen for the first time. “Are they gay?”

“I wish they were.”

Camila wishes a lot of things were gayer, in fact, and as she notices Lauren exchanging texts with Luis, she forces herself to focus all her attention on Tori and Jade swirling around to _Take a Hint_.

 

*

 

_i was there when you fell from the clouds / and landed in the desert / there was a thunder inside of my heart_

 

Camila tends to think of love as grand gestures of magnificence and passion. She thinks of chocolates and flowers and stuffed animals; special dates where both people are dressed up and the dinner goes a bit over budget but no one can be bothered to care.

She’s a romantic at heart, one of those dreamers that places lovers on top of a mountain and is perpetually sentenced to climb that one mountain where their love awaits, too high to be reached.

Eyes closed, she travels through perfect kisses and butterfly-kissed stomachs, embraces in the rain and fervent declarations where at least one knee is most definitely on the ground.

That is, perhaps, the reason why she’d never quite considered the small things, never quite paid attention when someone talked about stolen glances or a particular, fantasy-inducing outfit. Those are harder to capture in fiction, and almost impossible to conjure without the experience of your heart swallowing your whole chest in its sudden explosion.

And that is probably why, when she wakes up in her bunk bed during the very first Fifth Harmony tour, the landscape of the Mojave Desert the infinite outside her window, she isn’t even remotely prepared for what’s about to happen.

Rolling out of bed with no trace of grace, she drags her feet to the common area of the bus where she can already hear the girls talking, and stops on the threshold of the hallway watching them.

It’s the littlest thing (it always is). Lauren is standing in front of Normani, wearing one of Camila’s t-shirts as a makeshift pajama, and she’s laughing, loud and carefree. She notices Camila arriving and there’s a twinkle in her green eyes, a sparkle that burns with warmth and secrets, and that’s the exact moment Camila knows.

_This_ is what feels like to be in love.

 

*

 

_see you, breathe you / i want to be you_

 

2013 is going by so fast, a combination of normal life and newfound musical responsibilities. Camila loves it. She gets to keep everything she already liked about her past life and add Lauren to the mix.

They get together with the other girls to film the music video for _Miss Movin’ On_ , which seems oddly fitting now that Lauren and Keaton are no longer a thing. Camila is a ball of energy, so insanely happy and elated that she is aware some of the adults in their team are tired just from being around her.

She doesn’t care. Lauren is happy too and Camila can’t take her eyes off of her. The leather jacket is giving her some kind of rebel look that has Camila tingling and daydreaming, and it becomes a little embarrassing when the set is full of cute boys and most of her bandmates have their flirting mode on and Camila is just standing there, delirious with joy and drunk on Lauren.

Dinah calls it a girl crush, and her mom says she’s enamoured with the idea of being someone’s favorite. Camila likes to think of it as respect and admiration, an encounter of soulmates but in friend form.

What else could it be anyway?

(she knows it’s weird to think of Lauren every night before sleeping, and to stare at her lips sometimes, but she doesn’t think there’s a problem in loving someone so much your world merges with theirs.)

 

*

 

_‘cause she's so high / high above me, she's so lovely_

 

Fifth Harmony came in third in _The X-Factor_ and it didn’t even matter because they’re getting signed by Simon anyway. Camila feels like she’s walking on clouds and now she gets to spend some time in Miami until their new life kickstarts. Miami, where Lauren also lives – and getting to be so close to her after what they’d been through during the show means more than Camila can express.

They don’t see each other every day because their parents won’t let them, but they try – and they’re in constant communication and always making plans.

That’s how Camila ends up meeting Lucy Vives for the first time.

It’s just a casual hangout at Lauren’s place, but when Camila gets there, a bag of popcorn in hand, Lauren opens the door with a girl behind her.

“Camz!” she greets, eyes turning into slits with how much she’s smiling. “I invited Lucy too!”

Lucy, as it turns out, is gorgeous and unreasonably cool and she’s been best friends with Lauren for years. Camila doesn’t want to, but she can’t help how small and intimidated she feels.

She can’t help the jealousy either.

Lucy and Lauren laugh at private jokes and get into deep arguments about human nature and Camila watches, as if from the shadows. She doesn’t dare intervene in their dance of thoughts that flow around and into each other, in their battle of sentences that aren’t complete until there’s a reply; she doesn’t dare sit too close for fear of catching secret smiles and smitten looks.

Leaning sadly against the back of the swivel chair in Lauren’s bedroom, Camila wonders if maybe hers aren’t the only lips Lauren kisses in the dark of night, when nothing but the moon is there to see.

 

*

 

_all i know is that you're so nice / you're the nicest thing i've seen_

 

For all the attention she’s been getting online since the show started, Camila still hasn’t quite managed to learn how to deal with hate directed at her. She’s aware the internet is a world on its own, where you can both make friends and see things you really wish you could unsee, but there’s something disturbingly intimate about personal attacks, even from someone who’s never met you and doesn’t know you. Some days she brushes it off without much thought, but today everything is sticking to her skin like sweat.

“What’s wrong, Camz?” Lauren asks, noticing her pout. They’re in bed already, half-sitting half lying down, just spending a few minutes reading and checking their phones before sleeping.

“They’re calling me ugly, Laur,” she replies, her bottom lip wobbly as her voice wavers with sadness.

“What?! Give me that.” Lauren snatches her iPhone and does something on it, before dropping it in the space between their bodies and starting to type furiously on hers. “There,” she says once she’s done, sounding proud of herself. “Fixed it.”

Camila checks her phone’s screen to see Lauren had replied to one of the tweets and smiles a little, heart still heavy.

“Camz, baby, don’t listen to them.” Lauren’s proud grin fades and she moves nearer, one arm settling around Camila’s shoulders while the hand of the other rests on her thigh. “These fuckers are just trying to get a rise out of you. They know _nothing_ about how beautiful you are, inside and out.”

“You’re just saying that,” Camila whispers around a shrug.

Lauren sighs, collecting both their phones and the book she’d been reading and placing them on her nightstand. She lies down and instructs Camila to do the same, turning the light off when she finally complies.

“Come here, princess.” Camila pouts again, but shuffles until the entire length of her body is touching Lauren’s and her head is snuggled on the girl’s chest. “Your smile lights up an entire room and you have more talent and determination than all of Twitter.” She kisses the top of Camila’s head. “You’re the most beautiful to me, okay?”

Camila smiles, squeezing Lauren impossibly closer, and leaves a chaste kiss on her exposed collarbone. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

 

*

 

_this love / this love is a strange love / it doesn’t know it is love / it doesn’t mean a thing / this love_

 

They’re laughing in bed and it’s later than reasonable. The lamp on Lauren’s side is still on, illuminating them with a soft golden glow, and Camila is so lost in the moment she just goes ahead and drops a peck on Lauren’s lips.

The room grows eerily quiet after that and Camila bites her bottom lip, feels heat creep up from her neck to her face.

“Your face is matching your PJ, pink princess,” Lauren says, a little flustered and reaching for the light switch. “We should sleep.”

Camila tries to find a name for the pang in her chest that makes it hard to breathe when Lauren turns so her back is to her. She thinks it will be the first time they fall asleep without cuddling, but then Lauren pulls Camila’s hand around her waist and they blend together like the colors in a rainbow.

 

*

 

_i wanna be the one you're guiding / 'cause i believe that you could lead the way_

 

This girl group is a fun business, Camila thinks, pressed between Lauren and Dinah and with Ally practically stepping on her feet. It’s like whenever people want to interview them, they have to huddle them up and make them occupy as little space as possible.

Not that she cares when it’s so cozy to have Dinah’s arm on her shoulders and Lauren’s around her waist, her own propped forward to rest her hand on Ally’s stomach. The only one she isn’t touching is Normani and she would if she could reach her.

“To be honest, my dream is just to be here, like, I just wanna do this for the rest of my life,” she says, in answer to the interviewer. Lauren coos and starts tickling her cheek, which gets her feeling all self-conscious and she pulls a face to avoid her blush. “That would be the ultimate dream.”

“With me,” Lauren teases, finger still poking her cutely, her eyes sparkling with affection and focused on her.

“No,” Camila replies, gaze moving from Lauren’s eyes to her lips and back.

“Yes.”

“Yeah,” she relents, unable to resist Lauren when she looks at her like that.

“Admit it!” Lauren persists, playfully leaning into her.

“Yeah!”

They start laughing, absorbed in each other for a second until they remember they’re not alone and turn back to the camera.

The thing is, there was a lot of truth in that interaction. Music had been one of her biggest dreams, but after meeting Lauren? The two could not be separated anymore.

 

*

 

_all an illusion / caught upon the webs you spun_

 

It’s kind of exciting, this unexpected devotion strangers are bestowing on them. Their follower count on social media keeps rising and everyone wants to talk to them, ask them questions, know their likes and dislikes.

In a day like any other Fall day, when they’re bored and craving attention, Lauren and Camila turn to Twitter, letting their fans know they’re around. They love them, they’re obsessed with their friendship, 7 out of 10 tweets are fellow teens gushing about how cute they are around each other. In fairness, Lauren and Camila _are_ obsessed with each other too, or Camila thinks they are. There’s a connection there, something she’d never felt before, like a pull, a calling – something that tells her Lauren _makes sense_ somewhere deep inside.

Despite it all, Camila is still surprised when Lauren starts giggling next to her before shoving her phone on her face.

**_@guydirectioner2 @camilacabello97_ ** _it’s Camren yo_

She giggles again, at Camila’s startled expression, and then pecks her on the lips amidst a cheeky grin.

They don’t stop laughing until Ally comes calling them for rehearsal.

 

*

 

_who gave you eyes like that and said you could keep them_

 

Lauren and Keaton start dating and Camila thinks nothing of it.

Two weeks later, Lauren kisses Camila again. They’re sitting on the floor of their room, leaning into each other as they share the best parts of their favorite books, when it happens.

“Is it okay?” Lauren asks, breathless from a kiss that’s all lips and surprises. “Is it okay if we just kiss sometimes?”

Camila is dazed, so dazed, by the plump mouth and the soft, insecure edge around Lauren’s voice, and by the way her eyes shine on her and make Camila feel naked. So dazed she doesn’t remember acquiescing to anything, just her hand shyly settling behind Lauren’s neck and getting lost among tresses of thick, dark hair.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” Lauren whimpers, forehead against Camila’s, noses nudging each other cutely.

Camila thinks nothing of that either.

Not then.

 

*

_don't you wish that we could forget that kiss?_

 

She’s 15 and she looks at Lauren like she’s never seen anything so special in her whole life. It’s not something she can help. Whenever the other girl is present, her attention floats towards her, around her, as if Camila is a moon and Lauren is her planet.

She doesn’t think much of it. She’s content with their easy affection and the secrets they share in Spanish when everyone is near and no one cares to understand. She’s happy with how they cuddle up to each other whenever they share a bed or a couch.

That starts changing the night they stay up late playing truth or dare with most of the contestants left in _The X-Factor_. Camila is nervous – she’s always felt that game is made for people with experience to brag about what they’ve done while the unexperienced ones just sit back and feel uncomfortable –, but Lauren is right next to her, her shield and her safety net.

Maybe that’s enough for the bottle not to spin her way.

It isn’t, sadly, but it spins only once and Ally is the one on the other end.

“Truth or dare, Mila?” she asks with a cute chuckle.

Camila doesn’t know what possesses her to ask for truth. Ally would never give her a difficult or scandalous dare, it’s not in her nature to humiliate or bring harm.

“How was your first kiss?”

She blushes profusely, forgetting how to speak. It’s the hardest it’s ever felt to have all eyes on her.

“I… I don’t…” she stutters, hands balling into fists inside her crossed legs. “I’ve never kissed anyone.”

Ally stares at her with regret in her eyes and Camila looks down, too embarrassed to remember it’s her turn to spin the bottle and ask someone else to play. Normani shifts to do it in her stead, and soon Lauren is excusing herself over having to wake up early the next day and pulling Camila along with her.

They get ready for bed in silence in the room they share, and Camila fidgets awkwardly, waiting to use the bathroom, gaze stuck on her banana socks as she wiggles her toes. Lauren comes out at last, hair up in a messy bun, her t-shirt so baggy the shorts Camila knows she’s wearing are lost underneath.

Camila’s breath catches in her throat and she blinks, cheeks pink and mouth unsure of what to do.

“Is it true, Camz?” Lauren asks, coming closer, making Camila’s heart jump. “You’ve never kissed anyone?”

She nods, suddenly finding the floor fascinating, and holds on tighter to the hem of her The 1975 t-shirt.

“Do you want to?” Camila looks up then, wide-eyed, to find Lauren studying her, an expression of concern adorning her features. “It’s okay, you know? Things happen to people at different times. There’s nothing to feel ashamed about.”

“C–Can you show me?” Camila stammers in a bout of courage, blushing even more, now tingly and hot all over. “I don’t want to look bad when it’s someone I like,” she rushes out as soon as her brain catches up to her words, bowing her head.

Lauren lifts her chin up with just a finger, tickling the scar Camila has there. She hypnotizes her with the intensity of her green eyes and shrugs with just one shoulder, a ghost of a smile painting her lips in more enticing colors than any lipstick ever could.

“Are you sure?” she asks, so gently Camila has to lean forward to hear.

“Yes,” she whispers, already feeling the puffs of air Lauren is breathing into her mouth.

“Last chance.”

Camila closes her eyes, and takes a leap of faith.

 

 

_the saddest part of a broken heart isn’t the ending so much as the start_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it would mean the world to me if anyone reading could leave a comment <3


	10. xxxi-xxxiii

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're back to our usual [spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/0gkloeja4lyza9rvhk4ouzwbx/playlist/12Kswr3AnzWoRw9Kc7TsVQ?si=nVLcOyo1RAKx_RpBYx-x1A).
> 
> translation of Spanish in the first comment.

**xxxi.**

Landing in L.A. is always obnoxious, what with all the paparazzi posted at different spots, trying to snap pictures of celebrities coming and going, not to mention the overall chaos of the airport. Landing in L.A. when you’re supposed to be in New York and your presence in L.A. is supposed to remain a secret, however, is a monster task on a completely different level.

Camila has been pretty much living at Jack’s apartment for about a month and the last time Lucy had visited was two weeks before — which is not that much, considering the longer periods they’ve spent apart. They are in touch every day, as much as possible, and Camila is trying her best to navigate the memories of a love gone wrong partially due to the lover she has now, one that she desperately wants to be the lover that _is_ right, and while Lucy is patient and willing to let her sort out her feelings, Camila isn’t blind and notices how she needs more validation these days than she did before, and how she gets defensive more easily if she doesn’t understand a joke right away. It’s been a process for both of them, a learning curve about who they are as individuals and as a couple, and Camila just hopes that they’ll come out of it stronger, that her process of dealing and overcoming isn’t ultimately the cause for the demise of their relationship.

The thought had scared her enough to kick her into action. Lucy had surprised her so many times, maybe it was time she returned the favor. She’d checked with Jack if it would be okay to pause for a few days and then asked Roger to postpone a radio interview they had booked to tease her collab with Ariana. Jack is probably grateful for this reprieve as what had started out with her making her music to heal turned into them helping each other in parallel healing journeys through music — he’s even got a couple of new songs of his own to show for the whole ordeal. It was also her only chance to take a weekend off, since next weekend she’ll have the Grammys and March it’s either studio time with Jack or promo time with Ariana.

That’s how Camila finds herself at LAX at 9 AM on a Friday, in clothes her real self would never be caught wearing, a black bob-style wig of shoulder length hair with bangs that cover her whole forehead, blue contact lenses and make-up that she hopes makes her unrecognizable. Bruce is wearing casual clothes and has one arm around her shoulders while the other is carrying her bag, the two of them playing the part of an exhausted couple after a red-eye.

Due to sheer dumb luck, or maybe just fate smiling upon them, they manage to get to the car scheduled to pick them up without interference. It’s another two hours to arrive at the hotel, update her family on her whereabouts and well-being, and to take a shower and get ready.

Bruce drives her to Lucy’s campus a little early — she finishes at noon on Fridays — but Camila needs time to find her girlfriend’s motorbike amongst dozens of others. She spots the yellow Triumph Street Cup with the Louisiana license plate Lucy hadn’t bothered to replace yet by a tree close to the public parking lot’s sidewalk, and returns to the car with Bruce, where they entertain themselves playing _Guess the Song_ until Camila’s alarm rings.

(she wins, but not by much. he’s been getting a lot better since she’d deemed him her favorite bodyguard.)

Her heart drumming in anticipation, Camila walks to the bike and leans against its seat gently, waving at Bruce who’s watching from a respectable, inconspicuous distance. She adjusts her aviator sunglasses and crosses her arms, observing the students passing by and wondering if today L.A. will honor its reputation of letting celebrities be.

It takes a good ten minutes for Lucy to enter the parking lot and she’s so focused on her phone, she doesn’t even notice Camila until she’s three steps away from her.

“Wha—” she gasps, eyes widening and arms falling to her sides.

“Run away with me?” Camila asks, staring at her over the rim of her glasses; a fond, teasing grin lightening up her whole face.

The way Lucy tackles her in a breathless hug, arms going around her neck and face hiding in the crook of her shoulder, has Camila tearing up as if, in fact, they hadn’t seen each other in ages. With one arm, she pulls Lucy impossibly closer; with the other, she slides her hand up and down Lucy’s back in slow, comforting motions.

This is probably the best decision she’s made in 2019.

 

 

**xxxii.**

Camila will deny it if asked (no one will ever ask), but turning 22 is kind of exciting to her. There are too many iconic songs referencing the age, from Taylor Swift to Lily Allen, for her not to be excited. Maybe she’ll write one herself, when she’s six months into being 22 and knows what the fuss is all about.

For now, she’s in London with her whole family, grandparents included, and it’s the first time she’s spending her birthday outside of America. It’s all because of Ariana, who had planned to release their collaboration on March 8 and wants to do the initial promo in the UK, so they’ve been rehearsing for their first performance together and giving separate interviews teasing everyone about it. Camila understands the release date of a feminist anthem called _Powerful_ being on International Women’s Day, but she’s not quite up to date with the reasons for the focus on the UK yet.

The only thing missing is Lucy, even though she is only missing physically. She’d called when it was midnight in London and again when it was midnight in L.A. and a third time around 10 AM Cojimar time, as that’s Camila’s real birth time. She hasn’t left her phone for a single moment, replying to Camila in a matter of seconds whether it be meme sharing, a voice message, a mushy text or a random snap. Being on the phone 24/7 is not a very Lucy thing to do, so Camila appreciates the effort and sees it for what it is: even so far away, Lucy goes out of her way to make her feel cherished.

They hadn’t seen each other since her impromptu trip to L.A., and although Camila had wished Lucy could come to London with her at least for the weekend, it soon became apparent that wasn’t going to happen, since Lucy has a photoshoot on Saturday and an exam on Monday. She knows Lucy feels bad for not being there when they’d had such a great time together in Puerto Rico for Lucy’s birthday, but she’s not unreasonable. She would never dare ask Lucy to put her ahead of her career and her studies.

“The thing about love, good love,” Sinu had said that morning when Camila asked her if it’s okay that she’s a little less happy than she would be if Lucy was in London too, “is that it’s supposed to turn into family. Y extrañamos siempre a nuestra familia cuando no está.”

Her mom had then approached her suitcase and given Camila a medium-sized box wrapped in a dark blue paper with pizzas and pizza ingredients printed all over it. “Finally I don’t have to carry this around anymore! Lucy wanted to make sure you’d get her present on time so we coordinated during your stay in New York.”

Camila had unwrapped the gift carefully to find the box filled with endless variations of banana-themed socks, all pairs neatly folded into rolls the exact way Lucy folds her own socks. There was a handwritten letter on top that she’d been quick to read, tears already in her eyes.

 

_My purest heart,_

_If you’re reading this, it means I can’t be by your side on your 22_ _nd_ _birthday. I am so sorry, cariño. Please know that if I could, I would be showering you with love and annoying you every single minute of your “officially allowed to act like a baby” day, so you could get tired of me for being so overbearing (just the one day!), but also feel super special as you are to me._

_Are you excited? Have you spent half your time singing “This is the closest thing to crazy I have ever been / Feeling 22, acting 17” ‘cause you’re now 22 and also so in love with me? Don’t hide it, I know you have._

_Is your family smothering you with hugs? Are your fans spamming you with videos of their love for you? [insert Kim Kardashian meme: it’s what she deserves]_

_Thank you so, so much for being who you are – and being who you are to me. Thank you for being scared and brave, for doing what you need to do but still keeping in mind how that may affect me, for understanding what I need and never hesitating in giving it to me. I feel blessed every day to have you in my life and today I will be thinking of you 24/7 – as opposed to, you know, the 12/7 I usually do ‘cause I like to leave time for sleeping and studying._

_I love you very, very much, and I carry you in my heart always._

_Happy birthday, banana princess!_

_Lucy_

 

She’d been half-smiling, half-crying when she finished reading the letter to find a stack of postcards tied with a red bow among the socks and a copy of _The Little Prince_ in Spanish that had been first read by Lucy, filled with her notes and highlights. She’d noticed right away that the postcards are all pictures of them — mostly together but some individual photographs are in there as well —, and that there are messages on their backs. She’d decided to read them before bed to have a tiny bit of Lucy falling asleep with her.

That’s where she is now, Sofi already well into the land of dreams lying beside her, and with each new postcard, her heart grows more and more inside her chest. It’s line after line of things that are important to Lucy, of moments that they’d shared, of philosophical thoughts brought upon by the situation captured in the picture, of passages of Lucy’s poems for her slam poetry club, of cute anecdotes that have her trying to contain her giggles. It’s such pure, unadulterated Lucy that Camila somehow just ends up missing her even _more_.

When she picks up the phone to send her girlfriend an abnormally huge text with all the feelings coursing through her, she sees that Lucy had texted first, with an Instagram link that she doesn’t hesitate to open.

It’s a photo of Lucy, apparently sitting naked, back ramrod straight and staring into the camera, a twinkle in her eyes that reveals her elation. Right in the center of her chest there’s an open heart painted in reds and oranges and yellows, with blood flowing out of it in blues, purples and blacks and greens to form the most beautiful galaxy Camila had ever seen represented by human hand.

The caption reads _“my insides are starting to show”_ and Camila starts crying.

22 years of life, a great day spent in the company of almost everyone that matters to her, and she is swelling with gratitude for how love still has the ability to overwhelm her.

 

*

 

It’s the last interview of the day and Camila is tired. She’s so so happy with her and Ariana’s achievements so far: less than 24 hours since its release, and _Powerful_ has already reached number one on the iTunes of 67 countries, including US and UK. Their first performance of the song on _The Voice UK_ had been a magnificent success, breaking Twitter in the process.

She sort of remembers the chubby, gray-haired man sitting in front of them at the radio studio. She wishes she could say who exactly he is or what they’d talked about when they met, but she’s done so many interviews since going solo that, unless people leave a great impression on her, the faces and the conversations blur together in her mind.

It’s all going well, Ariana taking the lead and Camila only following up with whatever she says. She’s mostly zoned out, which is why she’s surprised when the interviewer turns to her.

“So, Camila,” he starts, in that annoying mispronunciation of her name that tends to happen more when she’s in London, “when you visited two years ago, you were single. Is that still the case or has someone stolen your heart in the meantime?”

Camila chokes on the water she’d barely sipped, punching her chest with the side of her fist in a feeble attempt to get the water back on the right channel.

“How dare you ask my wifey that question?” Ariana interjects, extending her arm to stroke Camila’s back in a mix of comfort and helpfulness. “We are perfectly happy together.”

At this point, Camila is blushing a darker red than that of the most majestic lobster, and she just shakes her head up and down with way more force than necessary, kissing the inside of Ariana’s hand when she moves it away.

The interviewer laughs and asks something about their next step, but Camila is too busy sighing in relief and intertwining Ariana’s hand in hers.

Most promo interviews are screened and the topics agreed upon beforehand, but there’s always the proverbial class clown bending over the rules for fun. Straight white men, usually, and older rather than younger.

Camila rolls her eyes at herself, leaning closer to Ariana and smiling away the awkwardness she’s feeling.

Lucy really is rubbing off on her.

 

*

 

“I think Lucy should be on the video for _Powerful_.”

“¿Qué?”

“You know how I want _Powerful_ to be the _Telephone_ of this decade?” Ariana continues, as if she hadn’t just dropped a bomb on Camila’s lap when she’s trying to chew on her pancake at the hotel restaurant. “Like, of course Beyoncé and Lady Gaga are incomparable queens, but it’s time a duet between two women reaches legendary status again, don’t you think?”

“Huh—”

“So like, I’ve been thinking a _lot_ about the video concept, because I want it to be perfect. I want it to elevate the song and make it unforgettable, and I’ve been driving myself crazy ‘cause _Telephone_ is set in a prison, which throws my original idea of paying homage to _Cell Block Tango_ into the bin.”

Camila blinks, lowering her fork to the plate and opening and closing her mouth.

“We did this amazing song, with lots of rhythm, empowering but not too in-your-face so as not to drive fragile men away ‘cause that’s the world we live in, and I’ve been running ideas around and around in my brain, until it clicked.”

“What?” Camila asks, thoroughly enthralled by what seems more of a monologue than Ariana having a conversation.

“Our song was supposed to be called _Oppressed/Powerful_ , right? They got us to change it ‘cause it’s too strong or too unhappy or something — who cares — but we can use the concept of oppression in the video and have it be one of those short movie style music videos, like _Havana_!” Ariana is gesticulating wildly, her eyes open wide in excitement, and Camila still hasn’t caught up to what this video that Lucy should be in is, but she’s already a fan. “Why is oppression a thing?”

“Because power is a drug and the people who have it don’t want to share it?” Camila shoots, confused.

“Do you think it implies that people in power fear what a shift in power would do to them? Or, more to the point, do you think men fear what women in power would mean to them?”

“I am not an expert, but I _think_ oppressing women has always been a political tool? Like, rape being a weapon of war, for example.”

Ariana nods. “Exactly. And there are many different ways of oppressing women — or minorities at large, really — and one of the more effective ones is through silence. We can’t be too loud, we can’t swear, we can’t talk too much, we can’t make demands, we can’t express our feelings, even worse if we express our thoughts…” She pauses, leaning back against her chair with a sigh. “Silence. History is made on the backs of silenced women.”

Camila hums, poking the food around in her plate without actually committing to eating any of it.

“That got me to thinking about that whole interesting period when women expressing sexuality would be classified as hysteria and the treatment was, well,” Ariana says, her expressive brown eyes now layered with sadness. “Did you know that it’s possible Freud covered up a lot of sexual abuse cases to come up with his Oedipus Complex theory and validate it?”

“I did not.” Camila harrumphs. “Lucy does hate him, so I can’t say I’m surprised.”

“Yeah, I did some research and it’s honestly horrifying what women have been through so we can sit here today, living our lives almost freely.”

“Does your idea involve a mental asylum?” Camila asks after a moment of silence, finally understanding where the conversation seems to be headed. In her defense, after a good night sleep, she only wakes up after breakfast. “As a representation of women who have been silenced and locked away, accused of insanity, throughout History?”

“Yes,” Ariana replies, matter-of-factly, like Camila had been in the know all along. “I was thinking of contacting activists to have a role in the video, like you know when you have a shot of someone alone in a room, and the letters start showing up on screen to the sound of a typewriter?” She starts tapping her fingernail on the table to the same rhythm of her words. “That way we could give their causes a louder voice, show them to the world. Like, Camila Cabello: believes immigrants have basic human rights, not a heterosexual.”

“Ariana Grande: licked a donut.”

“Oh my God, Mila, you did not!” Ari squeaks, slapping her on the arm. “It was one time and I was just being an idiot! But for the record, I still hate America.”

“The angel pop music deserves,” Camila teases, with a wink. “This is a super interesting concept though. So we’d have activists for women’s rights?”

“Not necessarily, but activists who are women? Absolutely.”

“You want Lucy to be one of those activists.”

“Yes.”

“Ari—”

“Think about it,” Ariana interrupts before she even has the chance to organize her mental list of reasons why this is a terrible idea. “People don’t associate her with you, not really, not the vast majority of our audience. It needs to be those obsessive fans that spend a lot of time on social media and who have been around for _a long time_ to still make that connection between you two. Even those won’t be making an ‘OMG, Camila and Lucy Vives on the same music video? they must be fucking!’ assumption, c’mon.”

“You underestimate the power of thirsty gays.”

Ariana snorts, tries to stay serious and fails. “Okay, but listen. You have been together for almost a year and you’re still stupid happy. Your management can try and hetero you up all they want, but Lucy is here to stay. What’s so bad about us filming some cute behind the scenes with all the ladies we bring in? Posting a few pictures on Instagram? I can hype up Lucy as my new best friend and from there maybe you can pretend you’ve rekindled a past friendship? You wouldn’t have to be so careful all the time when you’re out on the street.”

“That’s… actually smart,” Camila admits, taking a bite of her now cold pancake. “I can’t make promises though, I’ll have to run it by Roger and then we’ll have to bend over backwards trying to get the execs to accept it. Give me a few days.”

“Fine!” Ariana huffs, throwing her hands in the air. “A girl is trying to help a friend and hits a wall at every turn!”

“I didn’t say no,” Camila deadpans, grinning when Ariana pouts. “It’s just not dependent on me. What I _can_ do already is give you a list of Lucy’s favorite activists so we can start chasing them.” She leans forward on the table, a mischievous glint in her eyes, and whispers conspiratorially, “And force you to keep this conversation a secret so I can surprise Lucy with all her heroes when I wear Epic down.”

 

 

**xxxiii.**

The morning of her last day at Jack’s apartment, they have a very early breakfast with Ella at a small, overly fancy-looking coffee shop in Manhattan. She’s already there when they arrive, reading a book that seems worn from too much use, the weak sunlight painting her in ethereal colors. Camila knows Ella as a friend by virtue of other, closer friends; has had a few very good conversations with her even, but there’s still a larger-than-life quality to her that she’d gotten over with most other artists she’d met, even superstar quality ones. Lucy would probably love Ella, she thinks idly, watching as Jack hugs her so tight she starts hitting his back to make him stop. Camila pulls him away with faux jealousy, falling into Ella’s arms with a warm smile.

They order drinks amid laughter and Camila sits back on the couch, curious gaze set on them. Their interactions are very organic, very fluid. It shows they’ve known each other for years. There’s a lot of banter, a little flirting, a few pieces of advice shared. She wonders if maybe they’ve been lovers, if perhaps they still are; if it’s really possible for two close friends to go through a lifetime of being content with just that. They’re cute, she could see them being happy together even if they do have a 12-year age difference.

She catches the thought before it fully develops, brows knitting together. Had she grown suspicious of friendship, of platonic love with no intentions other than being there, having fun, laughing and crying together, holding hands in bad times, hugging in good times? Or is her heart so open for the world that can’t hurt her, but still hard to disclose for people who may come near and bruise it?

“So how’s that album coming through?” Ella asks, interrupting her reflection with her lovely New Zealand accent. “Jack drive you crazy yet?”

“Jack is wonderful, a life savior,” she answers truthfully. Ella laughs as Jack sticks his tongue out at her, and Camila takes a deep breath, awash with all the emotions of almost three months of work. “But this has been the most painful experience of my life.”

Ella grows very serious, green eyes studying her as if she’s a portrait on the Louvre, and Camila allows herself this moment, this moment of Ella seeing _her_.

“Sometimes…” Ella says in a near-whisper, covering Camila’s hand with hers. “Sometimes we gotta hurt so we can stop hurting.”

 

*

 

_you're always brilliant in the morning / smoking your cigarettes and talking over coffee_

Six and a half years since the start of her career, and Camila is still filled with strange feelings when listening to her own demos. Jack taps the table to the rhythm of the melody softly and she closes her eyes to be fully absorbed in the song.

_you'd teach me of honest things / things that were daring, things that were clean_

She loves listening to music and be transported to a particular time in her life, but there’s something decidedly odd about songs she’s written and sung and helped produce being both a memoir of those times and the reason she’s going down memory lane, again and again, in a process that’s left her raw and exposed, heart tender and bleeding.

_excuse me, think i've mistaken you for somebody else / somebody who gave it their all / somebody more like myself_

“This one is going on the album, isn’t it?” Jack states more than asks, pulling her away from her musings.

“Yeah,” she breathes out, with a slight shake of her head. They’ve created seven songs together, all from scratch, from the depths of their brains and their shattered spirits. Camila adores every single one of them, but this album isn’t about Lauren. She won’t let it be so.

(maybe CC2 can have a B-sides release further down the line though.)

“I’m very proud of you, you know that?” he says, after the recorder finishes playing all the songs and they sit in silence for a minute. They’re in the same exact positions in his home studio as they were in that long gone first day, the first time Camila had cried her eyes out in front of Jack. It makes her smile, a mix of longing and respite. “It takes a lot of strength and courage to travel to where it hurts and try to heal when healing itself can hurt more than the original pain.” He sounds older than he is as he speaks, solemn and deep in thought. “We hold on very tightly to what happens to us.”

“Yeah, well, you were essentially pushing me off cliffs right and left, so am I really brave or are you just a sadist?” she plays it off, rubbing her palms on her jeans and uncomfortable with the heaviness of the moment. “Thank you for holding my hand the whole way through. I— It means a lot that you gave me hugs and hot chocolate and somehow managed to scavenge my mind for the best words to express my rollercoaster of emotions.”

“I am but a conductor of what you already have inside of you.” His tone is grave, his eyes contemplative behind his glasses. “And I guess energy flows both ways, because I learned a lot from you too.”

“Wow, January 2019 Camila would be so honored, but I have seen you in Bart Simpson boxers with one eye open bumping into your own couch, so your flattery means nothing, sir, nuh uh!”

Jack laughs, standing up to pull her up from the couch and give her a hug.

“You are an absolute delight, Camila, and your talent shines through in ways that managed to surprise me. I am very happy that you fight so hard for your heart, it’s— it really moved me, you know? To see someone trying so hard to open their heart even wider when closing ourselves off is the natural response to pain.” He squeezes her a bit tighter before taking a step back to look her in the eye. “Lucy is a very lucky woman.”

“I think I’m the lucky one in this equation, but I’ll tell her you said that.” She hugs him again. “I feel like I’ve grown five years in the span of like, twelve weeks.”

“Yeah, no offense, but I will need a break from you until CC3.” Patting her on the shoulder, Jack moves past her to go grab the bags she’d left in the guest room. “I had enough shared emotional breakdowns to last me for the rest of the year, thank you very much.”

“Like I’d dignify you with the presence of my bubblegum pop skills.”

“I could be offended, but I choose to be thankful instead,” he snarks, amused, placing the bags down by the front door. “When’s your driver getting here?”

“The flight to Miami is at 3:30, so I asked him to pick me up at 1.”

“Then from Miami to L.A.?”

“Lucy went to Puerto Rico this morning, so no.” Camila shrugs. “I’ll spend tonight with my family and then go see her tomorrow, probably travel back to L.A. together. Not sure yet.” Jack clicks his tongue and she realizes she might be overstaying her welcome, “I can call the driver to come earlier if you have plans?”

“Nah.” Jack shakes his head and gives her a quick side hug. “I say we order pizza and watch a couple of _That 70’s Show_ episodes.”

Camila sighs, dramatically bringing her hands to the center of her chest. “A man after my own heart!”

“Your stomach is easy to please.”

She smiles, bumping his shoulder with hers as they drag themselves to the living room.

It feels really nice to have friends that allow you to go through every feeling in the spectrum of human emotion and still love you anyway.

(it feels nice to have friends that remind her that platonic love can be just that.)

 

*

 

Spending so much of her time travelling has taught Camila to appreciate the little things in life, to relish the actual time she is with her loved ones, rather than at work. It’s great doing what she loves for a living, it brings her infinite joy and humility and gratefulness, but there’s something quieter, almost sacred, in moments they don’t make movies about — a lesson she had learned by loving Lauren in the shadows, by trying to fit her soul in the cracks and crevices of a love that only knew how to be flawed.

She is fond of the awareness she has now, of how she’s learned to focus in the present and simply enjoy it.

Grinning, she stares at Lucy as she drives down a Puerto Rican highway, fingers of one hand tapping the steering wheel to the sound of an old Backstreet Boys song, fingers of the other entwined with Camila’s on her thigh.

They’d left the hospital a mere half hour before, after Lourdes had shooed them away despite their willingness to stay.

“Yo tengo un episodio de estos todos los años,” she’d said rather forcefully for someone with a nasal cannula up her nose. “Lucía ya lo sabe. ¡Vengan a buscarme mañana por la mañana y ahora se van y aprovechen que la casa está vacía!”

Camila snickers, reliving the incident, and Lucy looks over in her direction, one arched brow and a half smirk on her lips.

“I was just remembering abuelita screaming at us, that was kinda funny.” Camila blushes, though she wouldn’t be able to explain why there’s sudden heat on her cheeks. Maybe it’s the challenge in Lucy’s eyes.

“Think she’ll be upset we’re going to the beach before we christen every room in the house?”

Camila’s face goes full crimson and she pinches Lucy’s leg, hard. “We are _not_ having sex in your grandmother’s bedroom!”

 

*

 

The beach is practically desert when they get there, apart from a couple of dog walkers and a few joggers. Lucy grabs her wrist and pulls her across the sand to the right half of the beach, where they sit side by side a few feet away from the low tide. Lucy is wearing a sun hat and Camila tips it playfully before kissing her.

“You want to talk about it?”

Lucy nods and extends her pinkie in Camila’s direction. “Honest and loving?”

Camila smiles and links her pinkie with Lucy’s, bringing it to her lips to drop a soft peck on Lucy’s finger. “Siempre.”

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m not sure how to put it into words.” Camila sighs, mindful of their hands touching on the sand even as her gaze focuses on the sunset. “When I first realized there were still… a lot of negative feelings I had associated with Lauren, I felt very angry. I was so, so angry, so incredibly upset that loving her had left such a mark on me and affected the way I was able to love you.” Lucy moves to interlock their fingers and Camila finds comfort in the warmth the gesture spreads inside her chest. “But as I worked through that anger with Jack, other things came to the surface. How there were so many signs and I refused to see them. How I created a version of Lauren in my head and maybe even failed the real Lauren just so I could feed that version. How I hurt the other girls in the process of leaving Lauren behind. How Lauren did love me, in her own way, in whatever way she was able to love me at the time.” She swallows, throat dry and voice cracking despite herself. “And now I’m filled with this… this sense of nostalgia. I… I miss her, Lucy. I miss the girl who taught me how to accept me for who I am while at the same time fighting so hard against who she is. I miss the innocence and the happiness.”

"Una historia de amor no vale por el fin, vale por su todo." Lucy’s thumb is tracing circles on her palm and Camila shuts her eyes, dissolving in the emotions inside her and in the sensation of Lucy’s skin on hers. “You still love her, don’t you?”

“I think I’ve told you I’ll always love Lauren, and please don’t think that means you’re competing for my affection.” She locks eyes with her, hopes against hope Lucy sees how true that is. “You aren’t. I love you, I am _in_ love with you, nothing and no one changes that.

“What I mean when I say I’ll always love Lauren is that love stretches. My love for Lauren was already there and then you came into my life and now there’s a wider, stronger love that is not replacing that one, it’s expanding it.” Her eyes are dry, but she wipes them anyway. “I don’t know how to stop loving anything. It’s like, when you love someone or something, you make room for them in your heart, you know? And maybe they leave — maybe _you_ leave — but the room is still there. It stays there forever.”

Lucy chuckles, a low, charmed sound that surprises Camila. “This reminds me of that Chemistry law we learned in school. I always liked it ‘cause it sounds rather philosophical.”

“Chemistry law? What even are you on about?” She tries to control her face but she’s sure her eyebrows are reaching her hairline.

“One of Lavoisier’s: _‘In nature nothing is created, nothing is lost, everything changes.’_ ” Lucy smiles. “I always found that unexpectedly insightful for a man of the exact sciences.”

Camila frowns. “I don’t remember this.” She lays her head on Lucy’s shoulder, her free hand playing with the little hairs on Lucy’s forearm. “Like all energy already exists and we just use it and discard it at will?”

"Not so much at will, I don’t think, but maybe everything is already out there in the universe waiting for us to take it.”

“So I was always meant to love you?”

“Perhaps,” Lucy says, twisting uncomfortably so she can kiss Camila’s head. “The potential was always there and we were lucky enough to grab it.”

Silence settles around them, but not the infinite, claustrophobic one that swallows you whole and turns up the noise inside your head. Camila can hear Lucy breathing, her chest rising and falling slowly. She hears the small waves crashing against the shore and the seagulls’ broken calls, almost like they’re reacting to the dog barking not so far from them.

The sky is pink and orange and it doesn’t hurt to look at the sun, not anymore.

Everything feels beautiful and sad.

“Lauren cheated on me with Ty,” Lucy whispers, eyes lost in the horizon.

Camila shifts closer, resting their intertwined hands inside Lucy’s crossed legs. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know. When we first talked about Lauren, I didn’t know about it. She told me a few months after we became friends again; when they broke up, I think.”

“I’m surprised you remained friends with her,” Camila says, leaving soft kisses on Lucy’s shoulder, snuggling it with her nose. “You can be quite final when people step on your toes.”

“I was upset, of course,” she concedes, fingers drawing lines in the sand, “but then it occurred to me that it didn’t matter anymore. Lauren and I broke up at the beginning of 2017, and you and I were already three or four months into our relationship, and well into 2018, when she told me. I was happy with you and us, I had already forgiven Lauren for how we grew apart and what she did was on her.” She shrugs and Camila moves her head away, startled. “Lauren cheated on me and then believed people’s lies about me cheating on her when that never happened. She was in the wrong and she knows it.”

“I must say I’m very into this new version of Lauren since Ty. For a long time, reflecting on her actions, facing their consequences... that wasn’t the most Lauren thing in the world.” Camila purses her lips, realizing she is somehow impressed by that particular development.

“She’s learned and evolved a lot, I’m proud of her,” Lucy agrees. “Plus, it’s also true that without Lauren, one way or another, maybe we could never be here right now. Maybe we would never have met.” She leans a bit sideways, capturing Camila’s lips in hers. “I figured that was probably worth the bruised ego.”

“Does it hurt?”

“A little?” Lucy shrugs again and chews on her bottom lip. “I can’t tell you how this affects me, it’s just really strange. She didn’t hurt me at a time when I was still in love with her, she didn’t break me. I’m not sure if this is supposed to give me delayed trust issues or not, but either way I never felt like I couldn’t trust you.”

“I feel like I irradiate loyal puppy energy,” Camila jokes, wiggling her eyebrows. “I’m glad you trust me, corazón.”

“I mean, I guess this whole ‘need to create music to expurgate Lauren from my soul’ wasn’t exactly ideal for my self-esteem and my emotions have been all over the place,” Lucy claps back, winking.

Camila knows she’s only joking, but the guilt’s been eating away at her since the very moment she’d decided to stay in New York to work with Jack. She lowers her eyes, unsure whether it’s anxiousness or regret taking over her. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no!” Lucy rushes to say, holding Camila’s face with both hands and kissing her again and again. “You did what you had to do, cariño, and you were considerate of me the entire time you did it. I never felt neglected or like you couldn’t pay attention to me.” She adjusts her position so one leg is stretched behind Camila, the other folded against Camila’s right thigh. “It’s just that emotions aren’t rational and knowing you were constantly drowning in that part of your life pushed me back into it as well, with all its ups and downs. You processing ended up meaning that I had to go through it too.”

“It was so weird, Lucy,” Camila shares under her breath. “Everything came rushing back, like it happened yesterday instead of years ago — some kind of twisted version of emotional time travel. And after I got over the bitterness and agony of our last days, I was reminded of the good things that we _did_ live through before that. All of it was real. All of it.”

“Our memories really can take us anywhere in time, huh?” Lucy bops Camila’s nose, smiling playfully. “Ugh, our minds.”

“Is… is it possible that I’ve finally allowed myself to grieve?” she asks, eyes filled with questions. “Before Jack, before _you_ , it feels like all I ever did was hide and deny.”

Lucy sighs, enveloping her inside both her arms until a wave rolls over the sand, the impression of white foam leaving as fast as it came, and she points at it. “Grief is like the waves. Sometimes you’re just standing on the sand at a safe distance and you know the sea is right there but it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t affect you. You don’t think about it, you forget it’s even a thing.” She kisses Camila’s temple. “Sometimes you get distracted and a wave comes and the water touches your toes; it surprises you and it can make you smile because it feels nice, or maybe scowl because it’s too cold.

“And then other times you’re just trying to build a sand castle and you get so excited you turn your back to the sea. You really thought you were fine and safe, but out of nowhere a wave crashes and your castle is destroyed and suddenly you’re drowning.” She places her chin on Camila’s shoulder and her hand moves under her shirt, palm wide open against her lower back. It’s hot and a little sweaty and Camila has never felt so grounded to a place and a person as she does right then. “I don’t think… I’m not sure we ever truly get over a loss as much as we learn to live with it.”

“I guess I’ve been so afraid of the water this whole time that it swallowed me when I got near.”

Lucy nuzzles her neck, leaves a barely-there kiss under her ear. “How does it feel to finally know how to swim?”

“Liberating.”

“That’s so great to hear, cariño. It makes me so happy.”

“ _You_ make me so happy,” Camila replies, turning so their foreheads are touching. “This whole thing felt like such a shitty thing to do to a loved one, you know what I mean? Yeah, sure, we can say it’s something I needed to do for my personal growth, but thinking of you on the other side of it… God, I swear I had a meltdown every time I thought I could be hurting you.”

“Ah, so that’s why you started sending more nudes?” Lucy tilts her head to the side, squinting her eyes. “I see.”

“Lucy!” Camila screeches, hitting her leg. “You’re such an asshole!”

“Ow!” Lucy whines, brushing the affected spot. “You’re strong for a girl that’s all ass and sass.”

"You’re the sass in this relationship.”

Lucy pauses for a moment, mulls over it. “Ok, I’ll give you that.”

“I’m serious. Thank you so much for not giving up on me, for supporting me.” She wraps an arm around Lucy’s waist. “Not to be that girl, but I literally couldn’t have done it without you.”

“What’s the point of being a girlfriend if it’s not to be a supportive girlfriend?” Lucy squeezes her closer. “¿Sabes que te amo, no sabes? Anything that helps you become the person you want to be is something that I have no choice but to support, even if at first I don’t understand it.”

Camila feels tears prickling at her eyes, of relief and happiness, and she gets lost in kissing Lucy. She tries to kiss her with the certainty of her love and the gratitude of being loved in return, with the hurt that she’s learned how to manage and the patience she knows has helped them get to where they are now. She kisses her with all the emotions she had to go through to forgive Lauren, and all the emotions she goes through every day that are spelled like Lucy.

It’s a kiss that feels like forever.

In that moment, she feels something shifting in her heart, something finally coming into place, setting there with faith and a warm sense of hopefulness. She doesn’t know what it is or what it means. Not then.

When they pull away, Lucy kisses the tip of Camila’s nose, kisses the tears away from her closed eyes, and they both turn to the water at the same time. Looking in the same direction, to the sun almost gone, to the clouds shaped like fleeting dreams, to the trembling line where the sky meets the ocean. To a world that is round even when it feels flat.

Together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter marks the end of what i call the Lauren Trilogy - though it isn't the end of Lauren in this story.
> 
> thanks so much to everyone who's commented and left kudos so far - please feel free to say hi always.


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